Crescent Moon
by living-daydreams
Summary: Ever since Derek Shepherd relocated to Seattle, his life has been turned upside down by not only the arrival of a cheating wife, but a tragedy in their family that left behind far more questions than answers. Now, years later, can two people who were already at odds find the kind of love and healing they still desperately need? AU Addek. Partial PP crossover.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi Addek fans! I must say, despite publishing the occasional one-shot, I have really missed you all. So, here is a new story for you. Honestly, I am a little nervous in publishing it, but my Addek brain has been on overdrive these days, and this fandom has been nothing but kind and welcoming to new writers like me, and thus I am taking the plunge.**

 **This story begins in a flashback, but will be set during mid-season 5 of Grey's, and mid-season 2 of Private Practice. "Crescent Moon" by KT Tunstall is one of my all time favorite songs (hence the title)...I would highly recommend listening when you can. Anyway, I hope you enjoy chapter one!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

" _So feel me_

 _Pulling all your oceans up around my body_

 _And if it should ever let me leave this place too soon_

 _You'll always know that I'm a crescent moon"_

 _Addison_ **  
March 2007**

This was how Addison Montgomery—formerly known as Shepherd—pictured it:

Three o'clock that cold and sunny Seattle afternoon, she was behind the wheel, hands in the two-and-ten position because that was the way her father, who spent hours teaching her to drive when she first got her permit, liked her to drive, and she didn't want anything to happen to the car her father had owned for almost half her life. The jeep was eight years old and smelled like a subtle mixture of coffee and fishing gear, and if she looked in the rearview mirror, she could see where her parents used to strap in her booster seat.

Doc, the terrier mix that once belonged to Meredith Grey but was now in the care of Addison and her husband, Derek, rode with Addison because he was still rambunctious and liked to nuzzle the driver's ear from the back seat, and Addison had worried that he might distract Carrie. Doc and Addison were two miles behind, with one last stop to make after the vet's office before heading home.

Her daughter: Carrie Madeline Shepherd. Dark, yet auburn-tinged straight hair and ocean eyes; the perfect combination of her parents. She was wearing the red and grey hoodless MIT sweatshirt—endearingly large—that had been given to her for last Christmas from Jason. It was so Carrie to be wearing it, just two days after their break-up that had also included a box in the mail from Boston full of things she had given him, like her miniature telescope and dog-eared copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_.

The March day was unusually cold but bright, and although the temperatures had dropped below freezing the night before, the roads were clear of ice. Carrie was thinking of spring break.

Every year since she was in kindergarten they would spend the week up at the cabin in Maine, just north of her father's alma mater Bowdoin College. Some years it would still be snowing so they would go snowshoeing or sledding; whereas others it would be unusually warm, calling for day-long hikes that left Addison questioning why she ever left the city to begin with.

Carrie was sixteen in January, her license was fairly new, and she brought her sense of responsibility to driving the way she did everything else. Straight A's last semester despite starting at a new school mid-term, a talented choral singer, making the varsity swim team last month and coaching lessons for preschool-aged children, such good-heartedness, and pure, steadfast determination to go to Columbia University like her parents, and Addison wondered if that was Carrie's way of trying to hold her and Derek together, to remind them of what they had gotten through together— _because_ of one another—and—unbeknownst to Carrie—where they had conceived their daughter.

To Carrie, Columbia was a reminder of how happy her parents had been, and could be again.

Addison knew her daughter felt bad for leaving the trailer angry that morning, calling Addison a hypocrite for telling everyone that her marriage was fine, when really she and Derek were in the beginning stages of divorce.

So there she was, driving home from school on 103rd Ave., past the rows of towering evergreen trees and frozen creeks, pure white in the sunlight, talking to her father on speaker phone, listening to him tell her how well she swam the 100-meter butterfly that morning with her strong arm extensions and quick breaths.

Derek and Carrie adored each other and had since her birth. In fact, it was _because_ of Derek that their daughter had even been named Carrie. As soon as they found out they were expecting a girl, he had wanted to name her after his mother, Carolyn. But Addison had protested; as much as she loved her mother-in-law, she wanted her daughter to be her own person with her own identity.

Thus, they had compromised with Carrie.

At night, as an infant, when she'd wake up crying and refuse to sleep, she'd quiet only when he would cradle and walk her, singing her made-up songs—as he did for Addison when they were married—as he carried her back and forth across the room overlooking Central Park.

And even those years when Carrie was ten and eleven, and Addison took on more genetics research, Derek would come home from the hospital and he and Carrie would take the Scrabble board into the family room, each playing the funniest words they could think of. Addison could remember the laughter that echoed through the house warming her heart as she sat at her desk, buried in paperwork.

Carrie drove toward the trailer—home—and the towering trees, the road straight and clear. There was no traffic in either direction; on Vashon Island there rarely was. The pavement was sanded and clear of ice, tree branches interlocking overhead and throwing afternoon shadows. 103rd Ave. took a sharp right before turning into Vashon Hwy and then Cedarhurst Road, where their trailer and the meadow surrounding it came into view.

The road was clear, she knew the way; she was such a good driver, and Washington had such strict hands-free laws, but even still Addison knew she would never risk driving with the phone up to her ear, legal or not. Derek had taught Carrie how to drive himself, he could attest to that. She would never hurt him, never hurt herself; she loved her family, she loved her life, so there was no explanation.

Ten minutes later Addison continued along, finished with her errands. She still had a few hours until dark, so she was eager for time with Carrie; it had been a while since they'd really talked, and she knew there was a lot her daughter wanted to say, not just about the divorce, but about her own break-up as well. All Addison wanted to do was hold her daughter close, just be with her because she was smart enough to know that words don't help with break-ups, there was no explaining that everything would get better, that she would heal, that time would pass and the day would come when it didn't hurt so much.

First of all, Addison wasn't even sure she believed that herself.

Vashon Island, while average in size, was a small community; so small that when Addison heard sirens her stomach dropped because she was pretty sure whatever it was would affect someone she knew. It wasn't like being a doctor at the hospital where sirens came with the territory, and could mean anything from a heart attack to a broken wrist.

Driving along Vashon Hwy, Addison slowed down to let the fire truck pass. Doc, in the back seat, paced back and forth. She told him to calm down, everything was okay, they would be home in a minute. She flipped on the signal light, veering off the main road, and saw the burst of flashing lights near her own property.

Some thoughts were too unbearable to allow. She saw a Seattle PD officer gesture for traffic to turn around, go back the other way, and she rolled down the window to tell him she lived there, and still, she wouldn't allow herself to think that the accident belonged to them. But Doc was barking, and he knew, and when the officer recognized Addison and approached the car with that look in his eyes that no human being wanted to see, her heart stopped because her heart knew.

Addison opened the car door. The officer tried to block her but nothing in this world could have held her back. She was right behind Doc running to the front of the long line of police cars, fire engines, and ambulances. She heard someone say:

 _She couldn't have even hit the brakes; she must have be going fifty_.

And someone else saying:

 _Shut up, that's her mother._

The sun glistened off the frozen creek in the distance, but it didn't blind her. Addison saw everything, and her mind took a picture of all that was there and all that wasn't.

The memory would stay with her always, even when, in the future, she moved over a thousand miles away. Distance was no match for this: the car crumpled against the thick tree, billows of black smoke nearly concealing the small silver trailer, rescue workers with no one to rescue parting to let her through, thin streams of blood on the face of her daughter as she lay on the freezing ground, branches blowing against the blue sky that already exposed the small crescent moon; the crescent moon that must have been the last thing Carrie saw on earth.

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 **Thank you all for reading and please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello everyone! First off, I'd like to apologize to you all-it turns out I published this story a little prematurely, because as soon as I did, my life kind of exploded and my writing time got extremely neglected. I still don't really have a lot of spare time, but you all have been amazing readers (and I can't get this idea out of my head), so I'm definitely going to continue this story. (It just might not be published as quickly as my last one was haha). Anyway, here is chapter 2 for you, and thanks for reading!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

 _Derek  
_ **May 2009**

Just after dawn, the smell of the cherry blossoms that blanketed every other tree Derek Shepherd ran past filled the air. Almost three years after moving to Seattle and purchasing more land than he could even imagine as a Manhattanite, Derek still slept in the small silver trailer that sat just at the edge of a meadow, surrounded by massive evergreen trees.

The sound of his shoes against the gravel path felt so familiar; despite having explored it so many times with Meredith-and, once upon a time, with Doc-over the past two years it had become his sanctuary. A place for him to be alone and practice ignoring the thoughts that still threatened to swallow him whole every day.

A salty breeze began to blow off of the Sound, contrasting the sweet fruity scent and filling Derek's mind with memories of the night before he moved to the West Coast.

Carrie had worn her favorite maroon leather jacket, a 15th birthday present from Derek's most complicated sister but Carrie's favorite aunt, Amelia. Derek remembered seeing the dimpled smile on her face the moment he walked into his office post-five hour surgery; the same dimpled smile that would greet him at the door the second he got home from a 36-hour shift during residency all those years ago.

Since the day she was born, Derek had felt a stronger connection to his daughter than anyone else in the world; a connection that went far beyond the unconditional love that exists between parent and child.

When Derek first laid eyes on his daughter, it had been like watching his own heart beat outside of his chest. It was as if in the span of about five minutes-from the moment he first saw her to when she was placed in his arms-everything in his life made sense. His mother bending over backwards to provide a life for their family, and his own father giving up his life to protect him and Amy. Carrie had been but five minutes old, and already he knew he would do absolutely anything to keep her safe.

...if only that had been possible.

...if only their family hadn't fallen apart.

...if only running through the scent of salt water and cherry blossoms could make him forget.

* * *

 **June 2006**

It was a particularly cold and rainy night for June, but Derek so rarely left the hospital these days that the weather was hardly ever on his radar anymore.

Carrie was in the passenger seat next to him, trying to keep him awake as he drove them home in the dark by telling him about a four-year-old in her swim class who finally managed to let go of the side today. He glanced at the clock on the dash—it was nearing midnight.

"Dad?" Carrie said, startling him as they sat at a red light.

"What, sorry?" Derek replied, blinking a few times, snapping out of it.

"I asked if you wanted to go running with me tomorrow morning," Carrie repeated. "Jason's going to a summer orientation up at MIT and it's been awhile since you and I ran together…"

Right then, at that moment, Derek didn't have the heart to tell his daughter that he'd scheduled another surgery for 7am. Especially since five-mile runs through the park had been something he and Carrie had started doing together when she was 12.

"Oh, uh, sure honey," he said quickly. "Sure thing."

He hated himself for hoping she would forget.

By the time they pulled up in front of the house, the wind was howling, pushing the branches angrily against the second story window. The Shepherds had lived in the Upper East Side brownstone for almost 17 years now; from their post-wedding 'honeymoon phase,' to discovering Addison was pregnant with Carrie, to graduating medical school, to Carrie's first steps and first words, to becoming successful surgeons…this house had bore witness to the many milestones of a happy family.

But Derek didn't think about this much anymore, because if he did that would mean coming to terms with the fact that he hadn't felt connected to his wife—both physically and mentally—in months. Blame it on being put in the running for Chief of Surgery at Mt. Sinai Hospital, blame it on Addison picking a fight whenever he worked late; either way, their marriage was not what it used to be, and they both knew it.

Their 15-year-old daughter knew it too.

Securing his jacket, Derek looked over at Carrie after closing the car door. Despite the rain, she stood on the sidewalk, huddled, waiting for him to walk with her to the door. At that moment he felt a surge of love for his daughter, the one thing in his life that had always been good.

"I love you, Bear," he muttered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and kissing her forehead. Carrie leaned against his chest to further shield herself from the storm. Although she didn't respond verbally, Derek knew.

He always had.

"I'm gonna make some tea before heading up," Carrie said, mid-yawn, upon entering the house. "You want any?"

But, once again, Derek was hardly listening because as soon as he stepped through the front door, a very specific object caught his eye. Unfamiliar, yet so familiar he could recite the age and brand by heart. He wished, oh how he wished he could look away.

Most of all, he wished he could shield Carrie from what he knew in his gut was about to happen.

"Sure, sweetheart," he said, in response to her question.

"Okay," she nodded, before turning on her heel and heading into the kitchen.

Derek swallowed the lump in his throat, wishing with all his might that there were a door shutting off the kitchen from the rest of the house, or world for that matter. One foot in front of the other, he walked up the stairs. With each step, he thought about how he might describe this moment in the future.

 _One night, I parked my car. I unlock my front door, go inside my house with my daughter, and something's different. Nothing's different, everything's the same but yet, still, something's different. And I stand there for a while, and then I know._

 _See, there are moments for me; you know, usually when I'm in the OR, when I just know what's gonna happen next. So I go upstairs. I see a man's jacket that doesn't belong to me hanging on the post at the bottom of the stairs, and everything I think I know…just shifts; because the jacket that doesn't belong to me is a jacket I recognize._

 _As I'm walking down the hall, I'm trying to prepare myself for what I'm gonna see when I go into my bedroom. And what I know now is that when I go into my bedroom, I'm not just gonna see that my wife is cheating on me. I'm gonna see that my wife is cheating on me with Mark, who happened to be my best friend._

 _It's just so pedestrian, common and dirty, and cruel; mostly just cruel._

 _I left—came out here._

 _And I met you._

Life moved in slow motion after that night. The night that not only included discovering his wife cheating on him with his best friend, but getting back into his car and driving until he ran out of gas.

"Derek! Derek! Listen to me! Derek, you can't do this…we have to talk about this…"

If the sound of his wife's pleading voice didn't make him want to vomit, he may have stopped to listen. But Derek could only think of one thing: removing all traces of her.

17 years he had been married to Addison Montgomery Shepherd. 17 Christmases, 17 birthdays. 17 years of feeling her smooth skin beneath his. 17 years of being bound together so tightly not just by wedding vows, but also a love that had given way to life.

"…wait. What are you doing with my clothes?!" Addison screamed. "It was one time! I know that's what people say I know that's always what gets said. It's just I don't know how it happened I don't know what I was thinking he was just here he was just here!"

It was as if the expensive fabric of Addison's clothes burned his hands as he stormed back down the stairs, opening the front door and throwing them outside, into the pouring rain.

Derek's heart pounded in his chest as he screamed at her without abandon.

"YOU SCREW MY BEST FRIEND AND ALL YOU CAN SAY IS, 'HE WAS JUST HERE?!'"

Addison sobbed, huge, pathetic sobs that under any other circumstance would have broken Derek's heart. After all, this woman was the mother of his child, the love of his life. He would never lay a hand on her as she stood her ground; never just toss her out the door as if she were a piece of garbage.

Derek leaned against the door, listening to his wife sob on the other side. If it hadn't been for the thick panel of glass that separated them, their hands would be touching; their fingers would be interlocking, holding onto one another for dear life.

It was all too much for Derek.

"…you have to give me a chance to show you how sorry I am. I'm sorry, okay?"

As soon as her soft hands wrapped around him, soaked with rainwater, he felt that same burning sensation, and he couldn't stand it. He couldn't process anything except his need to get away from her.

"I'm gonna go," he said. "You stay. I'll get my clothes in the morning."

"No no no no," Addison stammered. "We can survive this, Derek we can survive this. We're…we're Addison and Derek!"

"I can't look at you," Derek swallowed. "I look at you and I feel nauseous. I just…we're not Derek and Addison anymore."

Her eyes widened in such a way that he had to look away, because if he stared long enough, those beautiful eyes would remind him of not just his cheating wife.

"If you go now, we are not going to get through this," Addison cried. "We don't have a chance, if you go now."

But Derek barely heard her for slamming the door shut behind him. He couldn't think about anything besides getting as far away as possible. He wanted to hyperventilate, cry, scream…anything. Instead, he was numb.

And yet, what he hadn't understood was that there was, in fact, a greater meaning behind Addison's words.

 _We don't have a chance, if you go now._

He hadn't understood that the 'we' she was referring to was not just the two of them.

He hadn't realized that if he had just looked thirty degrees to the left, he would have seen a pair of eyes identical to those he had to shield himself from hiding in the shadows. A head of long, dark hair. A pair of ears that had heard everything

If he had looked thirty degrees to the left, he would have seen that he was not the only one to have their heart broken that night.

* * *

 **May 2009**

Derek remembered the endless hours of driving, of feeling like if he had stopped, he would have given the past enough time to catch up to him.

What he didn't realize now, amidst his early morning jog, was that even though he was mere yards away from the trailer he had lived in for the past three years, Derek Shepherd was still running away.

* * *

The following morning, there were no cherry blossoms or salty air to flood Derek's head with memories of his move to the West Coast. In fact, by the time he arrived at Seattle Grace Hospital, there wasn't even sunlight, which matched his mood perfectly.

"Oh, I asked them not to wake you," his patient sneered as he stormed into the dimly lit room, dressed entirely in black. The thought of changing into scrubs or a lab coat hadn't even crossed his mind. "I said 'whatever it is, it can wait 'til morning.' Dr. Shepherd needs his beauty sleep."

Derek sighed, not in the mood to engage with the man.

"Your latest head CT shows that the brain contusions are expanding," he muttered without looking up. According to his chart, the patient's name was William Dunn. "I'm gonna get you into the OR right away."

His patient stared at him blankly.

"This...this brain thing, it...it could kill me?"

"If we don't treat it, yes," Derek replied.

To his annoyance, the patient began to laugh.

"You find that funny?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"I'm sorry," his patient laughed. "It's just that they're gonna execute me in five days. Five days. Might as well take my chances with this brain thing, right?"

That caught Derek's attention, forcing him to look up from the chart.

"Mr. Dunn…"

"You gotta admit, it's a nice way to go. Plenty of attractive females...all the Jell-O I could want. Have you tried the strawberry? It'll change your life."

"You're refusing surgery?" Again more of a statement.

"Either way, I'm going to die, Dr. Shepherd," Mr. Dunn replied, staring off at the wall. "Might as well do it on your watch."

* * *

Breathing deeply, Derek lay down on his back on the on-call room bed. William Dunn's words played back in his head over and over, and it was all Derek could do not to scream.

 _Either way I'm going to die. Might as well do it on your watch_.

His entire career as a doctor he had dealt with death and recognized the fine line that existed between valuing human life, and accepting something as just part of the job and moving on.

And yet he never wanted to accept it as part of the job.

Closing his eyes, Derek remembered back to his intern year, the year he decided that neurosurgery would be his specialty. Everyone at the hospital had thought that it was his wife, Addison, who was the "sensitive" one, the one who took patient deaths too personally, and the one who would come home in tears, acting out either by cradling their toddler daughter, or throwing inanimate objects against the wall. There was no in between.

But what they didn't know was that Derek too had had his fair share of punches to the wall during his residency, of thoughts that screamed _what if I had only done this_ , _what if I had suggested that treatment instead_ , _what if_ , _what if_ , _what if_?

Now, Derek didn't like to think about that side of him or the memories of when that side of him came out, because so many of those memories were paired with other things he didn't like to think about, and reoccurring dreams he was desperate to be rid of.

In the dream he was back in New York City, hearing the sound in the background of cars going by, of the fall leaves crunching as couples walked together through the park, and sometimes of Carrie playing with her doll Samantha. Samantha had sheer angel wings and Derek's mother had whispered to Carrie that she had magic powers and could fly.

Carrie had worn her favorite dress, a navy blue and white flowered Marc Jacobs dress that Addison had picked out for Carrie's birthday. Derek came home, so angry and frustrated that after two years, he had lost one of his very first patients to a ruthless brain tumor. He had wanted to scream, shut himself away for weeks, and forget the world.

Then, as if a higher power had intervened, the silhouette of his child appeared, who had been standing at the front room window, waiting for him to get home. Without another thought he dropped everything he had been holding onto the floor-a briefcase with patient files, mostly-and lifted Carrie into his arms. She was five, with laughing ocean blue eyes and cascades of dark auburn waves, and she slung her skinny arm around his neck and pressed her face into his shoulder.

In the dream Derek would remember that he was wise, and knew there was no better life, no greater goodness, than what he already had. He held Carrie and promised nothing bad would ever happen to her, and if he could have slept forever those words would be true. Closing his eyes prolonged the vision, shielded him from the fluorescent lights of a hospital that was filled with death every single day, and enhanced the hallucination that Carrie was with him still and always.

His daughter-the one death he wished more than anything he could keep on his own watch, and he couldn't.

* * *

 **One day later**

Of course his mother would make something as simple as an airport pick-up complicated. But that was the thing about Carolyn Shepherd; as much as Derek loved her and knew her intentions were good, she liked to meddle. She liked to have things done her way. She would do anything for the people she loved, even if it meant the exact opposite of what they asked.

"Are you in the north terminal?" Derek asked, cell phone up to his ear.

It was all he could do to keep the driver's annoyed demeanor under control, after hearing something along the lines of _yes_ and _she's not here_.

"Well that's where she's supposed to be," Derek replied, pausing near the nurses' station.

The driver murmured something about leaving.

"No, no don't go anywhere," Derek said. "Just wait."

He was just about to hang up and dial his mother's cell phone when a hand touched his shoulder. Glancing over, he noticed it was exactly the woman he'd been talking about.

"Never mind," he sighed into the phone. "I found her."

Carolyn raised an eyebrow.

"You know there's a town car waiting for you at the airport," Derek said lightly.

"I don't need a fancy car," Carolyn replied, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Just hopped on the bus, saved you some money."

Derek smiled, shaking his head slightly. "So this cruise…you just happened to have a layover in Seattle?"

"Well, I've always wanted to check out the Space Needle," Carolyn shrugged as the two of them walked down the hospital hallway. "I understand you can see Mount Rainier from the top."

"Oh, really?" Derek countered. "Anything else you want to check out?"

"You gonna take me or not?" Carolyn asked, not missing a beat.

"I got back-to-back surgeries, Ma," Derek responded truthfully. "You gotta give me a little more notice."

"Yeah, yeah." His mother gave him a wave of the hand. "I gave birth to five doctors, I know the drill. I can wait, maybe meet your colleagues. Is that Mark Sloan?"

As fate would have it, Derek's ex-best-friend-turned-best-friend-again was headed straight toward them. Couldn't be on purpose, Derek thought to himself, since he knew Mark was trying to avoid Carolyn like Derek was trying to avoid thinking about the fact that this is the first time his mother had visited since Carrie's accident.

"Yeah," Derek breathed.

"Mark Sloan!" Carolyn called.

"Oh, Mrs. Shepherd, you look great," Mark greeted her with an air of cheeriness before checking on a fake page. "Oh damn," he said dryly. "Catch up later?"

Not a moment later and Mark's place was taken by Meredith, donned in an overly high ponytail tied by an overly pink hair scrunchy.

"Uh, oh, perfect timing," Derek stammered, caught off guard slightly. "Um, Mom, this is Meredith."

Carolyn raised an eyebrow, followed by her signature I'm-about-to-meddle-in-your-life smile. "Meredith, finally."

Derek could feel his forehead crease with anxiety upon hearing his girlfriend's exaggerated "hi!" as his mother pulled her into a tight hug.

"My son has been acting like a dog with his favorite bone, hiding you away," Carolyn said. "I hope you're free for lunch. I can't wait to dive in and find out all about you."

Swallowing, Derek tried to push the thought of his mother and Meredith having lunch together aside and focus on his upcoming surgeries.

If he focused on his upcoming surgeries, he could forget about the problems (differences of opinion, whatever you wanted to call it) he and Meredith had been having.

He could forget about the fact that the guy he had to operate on was a convicted murderer.

He could forget about the dream.

He could forget about her.

* * *

Later that night, Derek and Carolyn sat outside on a bench near the hospital's entrance, street lamps and crescent moonlight illuminating both of their faces. He could tell his mother desperately wanted to talk to him, and a part of him really wanted to hear her voice since it had been so long, but the other was perfectly content to sit there in silence, leaving the potential there for anything to happen, anything at all.

"Your father always wanted you to have this, for the right girl," Carolyn said, breaking the silence and handing him a small box. "Addie wasn't right, clearly."

For a moment Derek's mouth went dry and he swore he felt his heart stop in his chest. It had been over two years since his daughter passed away and his wife left. To hear either of their names said so casually, a reminder of them and what his life used to be, stole the breath from his chest, air snatched away from him just as quickly as the joyful moments of his past.

"You spent less than an hour with Meredith," he managed. "You barely even know her."

"I know enough," Carolyn replied. "I know...it's easier to have compassion for a good person than a murderer. I know how angry you still are about what happened to Dad. And Carrie."

Derek's heart pounded in his chest. Two years later and he still wasn't ready to talk about Carrie with anyone, not even his own mother. There was only one other person who could really understand, and she had been gone from his life for just as long.

"Of course I'm angry," he snapped. But, immediately regretting his tone, he followed with, "aren't you?"

"With respect to your dad...I still can't sleep on his side of the bed," his mother admitted. "The mattress is wearing unevenly. But no...I'm not angry, not anymore."

Derek was silent, waiting for her to continue. As much as he didn't want her to, he knew she would.

"And Carrie…" Carolyn said the name quietly. "I loved that little girl. I always will. In a lot of ways, she was just like you. Smart, passionate, and maybe a little stubborn. What happened to her was...devastating, horrible, but we keep going. Even if our loved ones can't. We put one foot in front of the other. We don't let the past keep us from doing what needs to be done right now."

A lump formed in Derek's throat, threatening to suffocate him. He knew his mother well enough to sense that she had been wanting to talk about her granddaughter all day, just as much as she'd wanted to meet her son's girlfriend. Either that, or she was masking the conversation she really wanted to have with Derek with going on and on about Meredith.

Derek didn't want to talk about his daughter; his strong-willed mother would just make sure he listened. Still, no matter how much Carolyn wanted him to listen, he refused to sit back and let her talk about Carrie as if her death were _not_ an accident. The anger he felt about his father's murder was completely different from the devastation he felt from his daughter's.

One death was deliberate, the other was not.

"Carrie's was an accident," he muttered. "Dad's was not."

Carolyn gazed at him sympathetically, pushing to accept something he swore he never would. "Sweetheart. You see things in black and white. Meredith doesn't."

At this point, the only word Derek could formulate was, "no."

"You need a spoonful of that," Carolyn said, grabbing his hand. "You need her. She's the one."

Was she?

* * *

 **Reviews would be greatly appreciated :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So it turns out working full time then moving across the country can take up a good chunk of time. I had, on more than one occasion, considered giving up on Fanfiction entirely, but the Grey's Anatomy/Addek fandom(s) have been nothing short of amazing and supportive of my writing (and me), so I just didn't have the heart. Anyway, thank you all so much for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy this lengthy Addison-filled chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

 _Addison  
_ **May 2009**

This was Malibu but nothing like the Malibu you heard about on the East Coast or throughout other parts of the country. Back there it was all movie stars and scandals and tan blonde girls in late-model Porsches who made people wonder, "Were they up-and-coming actors on shows that hadn't aired yet and if so did they buy the car themselves, or were they just so pretty they were being kept by an older man rich and lonely enough to trade expensive presents for attention and affection?"

Addison knew a little about such things. She'd been living here for two years, and was now partial owner of a medical practice started by two of her best friends, Sam and Naomi Bennett, in Santa Monica. So naturally, the occasional upper-class, well-connected patient would come through her office and gossip through small talk.

But in her personal life, Addison generally wasn't interested, and preferred to stay home. She liked the way the ocean provided her with an endless backyard, yet the canyon enclosed her, made her feel protected in a strange way, because really, what could be more dangerous than Malibu, with its earthquakes, mudslides, and wildfires?

Maybe that outward danger comforted her somehow and reinforced her sense of how impermanent it all was. As a doctor, Addison was all too familiar with the fragility of life, how one moment you could be absolutely fine with a perfectly healthy baby, and the next you're lying on the operating table fighting for your life, after what you thought were normal contractions.

While that particular situation hadn't happened to Addison personally, she had bore witness to it many times.

Instead, personally, she felt the loss of her daughter Carrie so acutely, the specifics of their days together, the constellations marking moments in their lives. Who they had been, Addison and Carrie, mother and daughter, would last forever; but who Carrie, and what their relationship would have become, ended with the accident.

In her profession Addison dealt with the real and the evidential, patterns she found in dealing with patients with similar symptoms, and figuring out how to treat them. Even as a child she'd loved sitting in the back of whatever lecture hall her father was teaching in, practicing sutures on a hot dog skin. Helping and giving as much love as she could to people had always been her passion, a passion she had no idea just how strongly she passed along to her daughter.

Addison could remember being just 24 years old, in her second year of medical school at Columbia and pregnant, thanks to a prolonged honeymoon phase of her marriage. How studying for exams actually became easier after Carrie was born, as if the hurricane of love that was her daughter was so much less distracting when it existed outside of her body. Most nights during her pregnancy Addison would lay awake with a hand on her protruding belly—either her husband's or her own—feeling her heart swell to thrice its normal size every time her baby moved, her textbooks neglected on the side table.

From the moment she was conceived, that was how Carrie always behaved: a hurricane of love. She took after her mother when it came to emotion. It wasn't unusual for Addison to return from her office, walk through the front door, and have Carrie barrel over, leap right onto her, arms locked around her neck, saying "Why were you gone so long?"

It wasn't unusual for Carrie to bring all of her homework downstairs and curl up against her father with a book, even as she entered teenagerhood.

And so, it didn't surprise Addison that Carrie did everything she could to keep her parents' marriage from falling apart; everything from planning dinner dates for them, to 'casually' bringing up memories of the 'good old days,' like vacations the family had taken when she was little, or how she couldn't wait for the first snow of winter because that was when they'd always run outside and build a snowman together. She would even bring up the story of how Addison and Derek met; a story she'd loved hearing ever since she was old enough to understand.

But the downside of this was that Carrie took it _all_ in: the good and the bad. She took the deterioration of her parents' marriage to heart, her sensitive girl. Addison knew her daughter's heart was breaking, yet she couldn't piece it back together the way she desperately wanted.

And that killed her. So she'd do what she could to make her daughter's—unknowing—last few months in New York just a little bit easier.

When Addison was a child and her family would summer in Martha's Vineyard, both she and her brother Archer had developed a love and craving for night swims, and Addison had passed that love onto Carrie—a state champion swimmer. Every Saturday spent at their house in the Hamptons, they would walk the five hundred yards down to the beach and dive into the tepid Atlantic Ocean, with nothing more than the crescent moon to show them the way.

The weather didn't matter. They would swim on stormy nights as happily as warm, calm ones. But now, glancing out the back door of her Malibu home, Addison could never bring herself to touch the water, because as much as the ocean calmed her, her broken heart and constant yearning for her daughter remained just the same.

Both she and Carrie had loved rough water, swimming after storms. It took everything she had to make Carrie stay inside until the worst was over—and when it was, they'd run down to the beach, lean into the strong wind, feel the power of the tremendous waves.

The summer before Carrie died, and just two weeks before Addison's night with Mark and then Derek's resulting move, the remnants of Hurricane Bethany tore through the East Coast. Derek had been glued to his work, and by the time Addison had realized that they were right in the storm's path she and Carrie had already gone away to the Hamptons for the weekend. Carrie had spent half the time on her phone, talking or texting with Jason, making sure he was alright. The two were together constantly, and there was almost bound to be a power outage; Addison could already imagine Carrie's panic. But she was secretly glad to have her daughter to herself.

Together she and Carrie shuttered the windows as the temperature rose, the air humid and tropical. When the wind barely started picking up, it turned the leaves on the maple trees upside down, and the sky became the color of a yellowish bruise.

Addison and Carrie changed into their bathing suits and ran down the hill, across the road and through the sand and beach grass. By now the normal-sized waves were swelling, rolling high up onto the shore. They dropped their towels and dove in. The breeze was so warm, but so was the water, as if the tropical storm were already here but hadn't yet fully shown itself.

"Mom, I think I found something!" Carrie had said, voice raised above the sound of the crashing waves. Addison stood, watching her reach down into the water and pull up a bottle with a piece of paper inside—a message. Carrie had opened it immediately.

 _Hello, my name is Sophie, I am 14 years old. The hurricane is coming. My family lives near Virginia Beach. If you find this, please write me!_

Included was an address. Carrie had written back, swearing that the two would become pen pals.

Later that evening, both mother and daughter ate dinner outside, on the porch, with candles in hurricane lamps. The wind began to shake the trees, and they could hear the surf smashing over the sandbar.

"I want to get married in a hurricane," Carrie said.

"With a tent in the yard that can blow away?" Addison said.

"Yes! And Jason and I will wear wetsuits instead of a suit and gown, and we'll all go swimming at the peak of the storm. Maybe we'll say our vows in the water."

"Oh, that sounds romantic," Addison joked.

Carrie sighed. "I just...want everything to stay like this."

Addison waited for her to continue.

"In a few years I'll be in college," Carrie said. "And we won't be together anymore. Not Jason and me, or you and me and Dad..."

Addison chuckled. "Honey, you do know Columbia is like a twenty minute drive from our house right?"

Carrie picked at her thumbnail, a habit she started right after she had quit biting two years ago.

"I know," she said. "But it won't be the same. All those things we do together now, we won't be able to just... _do_ them anymore. Like running in the park, building snowmen in the winter, or even coming out here and going swimming. We'll have to plan ahead all the time, like I have to do with Daddy since he started working so much."

Addison felt her heart skip a beat as her daughter's piercing ocean eyes looked up and into hers; an intense love for her baby who had grown into a beautiful young woman, and seemingly overnight. But the melancholy was equally as intense, because she knew how much Derek's absence was affecting their daughter, even if Carrie didn't always show it. Setting her plate aside, Addison held out her arms.

"Come here," she said, and without hesitation her 15 year old snuggled up against her in the lounge chair, the wind whipping through her long auburn hair, tickling her mother's chin.

"Oh, I do love you, Little Bear," Addison muttered, hugging her daughter tightly.

Bear: Carrie's nickname since birth.

"I love you too, Mama," Carrie replied, arm around Addison's middle.

Suddenly, it was as if the storm outside didn't even exist.

"Second to maybe shoes, there is nothing I love more than being your mother," Addison said, making Carrie laugh. "That being said, wherever you go to college, or wherever you are, I'll always be there when you need me. Whatever you need me for."

Carrie looked up at her, chin resting on her mother's chest. "You promise?"

Addison kissed her daughter's forehead. "Yes, baby. I promise."

"Good," Carrie said, laying her head back down.

"Or you know, I could just move to college with you," Addison shrugged.

Carrie grinned. "Don't joke."

"What makes you think I'm joking?" Addison replied, peering down at her daughter with a serious expression until the pair couldn't help but giggle.

"I know it probably seems kind of silly, me thinking this way, but I can't help it. What if I go away and something happens to you or Dad?"

Addison knew how much Carrie worried about her father, and she wished she wouldn't. But telling her daughter not to worry, or not to give so much of her heart to the people she loved was like telling a fish to breathe air. It just couldn't happen.

"Honey," Addison said. "I'm healthy, Daddy's healthy. We're going to live a long time, and I promise you once you hit college you'll be annoyed by me."

"Promise?" Carrie asked again.

"Cross my heart. Just so long as you promise me one thing too."

Carrie's ocean eyes met Addison's again. "What is it?" she asked quietly. The gusty wind made it almost impossible to hear.

"That _you_ , my girl, live a long and healthy life too."

Carrie hugged Addison tightly, and despite the impending storm, Addison swore she felt infinite in this moment. That this moment made every single fear she'd ever had about motherhood wash away into the depths of the ocean. She kissed her daughter's head.

And Carrie told her, "I'll do the best that I can, Mom."

* * *

The past two days had left Addison exhausted. From dealing with a little girl at work battling a devastating case of Cystic Fibrosis, to a near (and possibly needed) breakup with her boyfriend at home, all she wanted to do was fall into bed and bury herself under a mountain of blankets.

The old Addison would have dove straight into the ocean, not caring that she was fully clothed, and let the salt water wash away all of her earthly problems.

She flashed back to last night.

"There are other things I could be doing," her boyfriend Kevin had said as the two of them sat on her back porch together. "I get a lot of invitations. My friends, women…"

Addison wasn't sure if this was supposed to upset her or make her laugh. She knew at this point she should be used to not being good enough for a man. It had happened with Derek, and she had pushed Mark so far away that she didn't think he would ever come within ten miles of her heart again.

"So what, you want to date other women?" she snapped at Kevin.

He sighed, the nighttime ocean breeze making them both shiver.

"Maybe I do, but I don't. I'm not." Yet. "Because this is _so much fun_."

 _Well then what do you want from me?!_ Addison wanted to scream at him. She gave so much of herself to everything and everyone in her life, and after losing Carrie she was surprised she had even made it this far.

15 minutes later Kevin left, Addison cleared off their dinner plates from the outside table, exhaling the tension from her chest. It was times like this where she couldn't really be sure how much she loved living alone. On the one hand, she needed time away from Kevin, to figure out what she was really doing being in that relationship, and to allow the sting of his words to leave her heart. But on the other, she desperately craved someone to talk to.

Addison closed the sliding glass door behind her. She spent about five minutes standing at the sink washing dishes, before giving up and making a beeline for the half-empty bottle of pinot noir. As if she hadn't drank enough already.

Sighing, Addison pulled a glass out of the cabinet and poured it about halfway full, raising it upward in a toast.

"Here's to you, Bear," she whispered.

But no sooner did the glass touch her lips than the doorbell rang.

Her heart began to race; she didn't think she could deal with Kevin returning for round two.

"I'm not in the mood Kevin," she began, striding toward the door. "I'll call you tomorrow and we can-"

Except when she opened the door it was not Kevin standing there but her best friend and colleague, Naomi.

"Oh, hi," Addison greeted her in surprise.

"Oh great you've already started," Naomi responded, noting the glass of wine. She brushed past Addison and into the kitchen.

"By all means," Addison muttered to herself, closing the door.

"Am I replaceable?" Naomi asked pointedly, after pouring herself a glass.

"What?" Addison blinked at her.

Naomi leaned back against the counter. "Replaceable. Am I really _that_ easily replaceable?"

"What are you talking about?" Addison asked.

"Maya, my daughter! You know, Sam's got this new girlfriend and she's beautiful and fun and I'm just...I do _homework_ , I'm boring…"

Addison found herself annoyed yet equally grateful for the distraction. Her best friend knew better than anyone how carefully to tread around the subject of a teenage daughter. Naomi knew how much Addison yearned for those awfully cliche bickering, insecure mother/daughter moments, yet it was always Addison who told her "no, keep talking about it. Tell me about Maya. Don't let my tragedy erase all of the _good_ and _normal_ from the world."

"Nai, you're her mom," Addison reassured her, taking a sip of wine. "You're supposed to do homework and all of that 'boring mom' stuff."

"I know, I know," Naomi sighed. "It's just...seeing them together makes me feel…there's not even a word for it!"

"Come on," Addison said, leaning against the kitchen island across from her. "Sonya's just new, and - wait when have you seen the three of them together?"

Her best friend looked down toward the floor, muttering something along the lines of "yesterday."

Addison strained to hear her. "Did you say yesterday?"

"I snuck into your house last night and peeked at them over your back fence while they were having dinner," Naomi mumbled quickly.

Addison's eyes widened. "You did what?" she responded forcefully.

"Ah shh," Naomi stopped her. "I _had_ to. For the safety of my child."

Addison scoffed. "Are you serious? You're being serious with me right now?"

Naomi exhaled, setting her glass down on the counter.

"She's her new mommy," she choked, one hand covering her face. "That's Maya's new mommy."

"Oh honey," Addison comforted, pulling her best friend into a one-armed hug. "You know that's not true."

"Yes it is," Naomi replied, trying to hold back tears as Addison rubbed her back. "And I can't stand it, I can't...I'm _angry_. There it is, that's the word. I'm angry!"

And Addison knew exactly the feeling.

"Okay, come here, come here," Addison soothed, leading them toward the living room sofa where the two sat down next to each other. "As your best friend I am going to say something now that you might not want to hear, but comes from a place of love, because I care about you."

"What is it?" Naomi sputtered, wiping her eyes.

"I think that," Addison spoke slowly. "This might not be entirely about Maya. I think that it is possible that you are still very much in love with Sam."

"What, no, no," Naomi stammered. "No I am not, we're divorced, _happily_ divorced. I am not still in love with him, I-"

"Nai, Nai," Addison stopped her, taking a deep breath and meeting her gaze. "Divorce does not always mean you stop loving them."

Addison's eyes swam, and suddenly the room filled with the presence of someone who lived a thousand miles away.

"It's been two years, Addie," Naomi said gently.

"I know," Addison sighed. "But we're not talking about me. We're talking about you and Sam, and Maya."

"But you know, we can, if you want to," Naomi said softly. "Talk about you."

Addison shook her head, closing her eyes.

"Truthfully, I...don't think I'll ever stop loving Derek." Her ex-husband's name tasted like pennies in her mouth. "But he stopped loving me a long time ago."

"Addie." Naomi eyes were sad. "You did everything you could."

"No," Addison whispered, a single tear spilling down her cheek. "I didn't. My daughter did."

* * *

2:41am. The glowing red numbers on her alarm clock stared her straight in the face, taunting her as she lie in bed. Despite being exhausted, sleep was apparently nowhere to be found. Addison had turned over countless times, listened to the waves rolling in and out outside her window, even tried reading over patient charts. Still nothing. She was awake, her mind racing, nothing and no one able to stop it.

She took a deep breath, feeling the softness of Carrie's stuffed elephant against her fingertips. Herbie, Carrie had called him when she was three, and Addison had slept with him in her arms every night since her daughter died.

The lump returned to her throat as she leaned down and nuzzled the elephant's head. If she concentrated hard enough, it was almost as if she had her baby back in her arms.

Addison's phone illuminated on the bedside table, alerting her that it had reached its full charge. She glanced over; that clock was no kinder. It was now only 2:46.

She reached for the phone and opened up her email. _No unread messages_ , her inbox read. Despite her impossibly busy work life, Addison had always kept a clean inbox.

 _New message_ , she clicked.

Her thumbs were on autopilot as she typed out two things.

The message: "Bear."

Addressed to: Derek Shepherd.

* * *

 _So I'm gonna ask this again, but this time, pretend you think I'm human. You want to maybe have dinner with me sometime? A date?_

Addison replayed Dr. Wyatt Lockhart's words through her head again and again, first presented to her over a plate of cafeteria macaroni and cheese.

Her answer: _I...don't think that's a good idea_.

But why wasn't it a good idea? Because of Kevin, the cop who was this close to dumping her? Because of Mark? Derek? Carrie?

In the end, she had given Wyatt a definite no. After all, he was arrogant and entitled, not to mention he worked for a medical practice that was trying to bury her. So then why, after leaving her office for the day, did she press "4" in the elevator instead of the ground floor? What was she doing walking straight toward Wyatt's office?

A part of her knew. Today had been a really bad patient day. She and Wyatt had spent hours testing out a unique treatment for her little girl with a bad case Cystic Fibrosis, one that had ended up failing. So now not only was this kid going to die, she had to be permanently separated from the rest of her family because they, too, had CF.

Addison wasn't sure which was worse: to have your child die, or know your child was alive yet you could never hold them again, thanks to an incurable bacteria.

And then there was the voicemail. Her phone had made the all-too-familiar pinging sound as soon as she had locked her office door. Her heart began to race, the way it always did when it was about to tell her to do something rash.

She headed toward the elevator, trying to look as normal as possible while swallowing the lump that morphed in her throat as soon as the name "Derek Shepherd" appeared on her screen. He had responded to her message, by leaving her a voicemail.

Addison's eyes welled up as she stepped into the elevator. She was on guard. She wanted nothing more than to hear Derek Shepherd's voice and give him her heart on a silver platter, but she never could. Not again.

"Screw it," she muttered to herself, shoving her phone deep into the pocket of her bag and jamming her finger against the little lit up button that said "4."

Maybe she was here because of Derek after all.

Addison knocked, and the tall slender figure that was Wyatt Lockhart appeared in front of her.

"I don't know what I'm doing here," she whispered, only half-truthfully.

On the one hand, she craved the feeling of Wyatt's lips against hers; lips that could make her forget about the constant grief that was her life, or the fact that she could no longer deny the impending break-up of the most serious relationship she'd had since Derek (as pathetic as that sounded).

On the other, she felt sick to her stomach. What was this life she had created for herself, where she existed without the two people who made her world go 'round? None of these questions seemed to have answers.

But Wyatt was right there, his hands cupping her face, lips covering hers.

Their tongues began to duel, and Addison wrapped her arms around his neck. This was a kiss she could feel, all the way down to her tingling fingers. She felt herself getting lost, letting the rhetoric of questions fade into the background...then her stomach churned, and she pulled away as if his touch had given her an electric shock.

For a second the two of them stood there, breathing heavily.

"What's wrong?" Wyatt asked, moving toward her.

"I'm sorry," Addison breathed. "I can't do this." She wanted to back away from him, but her feet seemed to be cemented to the floor. "I can't...I can't do this."

Wyatt must have expected her to storm out, because when she didn't he looked surprised.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked carefully.

Addison exhaled, burying her face in her hand, but only for a second.

"I, uh…" she sputtered, trying to keep her face from screwing up. Nevertheless, it did.

"Here." Wyatt gestured toward the sofa, against the wall of his office. "Why don't you sit down?"

Addison's chest heaved up and down as she tried desperately to swallow all of the emotions that swirled through her. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she went to sit down, willing her knees not to shake too much. Wyatt sat down next to her, careful not to touch her, looking at her with concern in his eyes as Addison thought of Derek and Carrie and tried to keep breathing. Two years after the fact, it felt like no time had passed. Breath was still a razor blade in and out, in and out. Why did Addison get to breathe when Carrie didn't?

"Was it something I-" Wyatt began, but Addison cut him off.

"No, no, it wasn't anything you did," she blurted. "Truthfully, you...you remind me of my ex-husband."

And he did. Brilliant, driven, and maybe little arrogant; Derek, to a T.

Wyatt was silent, willing her to continue. Or not knowing what to say. Addison entertained both thoughts, and remembered back to earlier this week when Wyatt confided in her about his divorce. Now, it was her turn.

"It's been two years since the divorce," she managed, resting her hands on her lap and staring down at them. "I'm over him, I am, I just…"

 _I'm not, really_.

"It takes a lot out of you," Wyatt said.

"Yeah, it does," Addison nodded. "Derek and I...we were together a long time. We have-we _had_ a daughter together."

 _Had_. The word burned in her throat. She blinked hard, and Wyatt took hold of her hand.

"Carrie was sixteen," she continued. "She died in a car crash up in Seattle two years ago."

Wyatt held her hand tightly, waiting.

"She was driving. It happened on our road, at the end of our driveway. She was a good driver, but she missed the turn."

And the last bit, the bit that tore Addison's heart to shreds every time the thought crossed her mind.

"The police think she did it on purpose."

Addison leaned back, and Wyatt pulled her toward his chest. No one spoke, and the air felt thick, yet still she let him hold her. Addison imagined the ocean waves, less than a mile away from them, flowing in and out, crashing against the sand, restless and discordant. The longer they sat there, the more she could feel the spirit of her daughter and ex-husband, so far away yet standing right beside her. She didn't want to move.

"I used to have this dream," she began. "From the time Carrie was little. She'd be in danger, always getting hurt or falling down, but there would always be something there to pick her up again, either me, or Derek, or just...something. And she'd look at me and smile and say 'don't worry, Mama. I'm doing the best that I can.'"

Addison swallowed, feeling Wyatt's hand running up and down her arm, soothing her.

"I'm so sorry, Addison," he whispered.

"Yeah," she breathed. "Yeah, me too."

"Do you…" he stuttered, as if afraid to ask. "Do you think she…?"

"I think," Addison cut him off softly. "I think she did the best that she could. I'm just not sure that I did."

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading. Please review :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for sticking with me, y'all! I think I'm finally getting into the swing of writing again...hopefully. And I promise, all of the Derek/Addison interactions you all are requesting/waiting for will happen, all in due time :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

 _Carrie  
_ **October 1999**

 _Second only to Christmas, Halloween was my favorite holiday as a kid. I remember being five, six, then seven years old, visiting my aunts and cousins in Connecticut so we could all get dressed up and go trick-or-treating together._

 _My favorite costume year was 1997, when I was six and both my parents, uncle Mark, and I dressed up as members of the Addams Family; Gomez, Morticia, Uncle Fester, and little Wednesday. I even taped a paper hand on top of Herbie, my stuffed elephant, and carried him around with me as Thing._

 _At that point in my life I had four Shepherd cousins, and all of them had been close to my age. On Halloween night we spent almost two hours running around our grandma Carolyn's neighborhood, knocking on door after door, then racing back to Grandma's house to compare our candy stashes. Inevitably I would trade all of my York Peppermint Patties with my cousin Amanda for her Reese's Peanut Butter Cups; peanut butter has always been one of my favorite foods, a trait passed down to me from my mother and with no shame._

 _But I wasn't always like the other kids. As much as I loved running around on a sugar high with my cousins on Halloween night, I was just as happy walking alongside the adults, sandwiched between my mom and dad as they held my hands, giving me the occasional gentle swing back and forth._

 _Typical Only Child Syndrome, I guess. It wasn't that I had trouble fitting in with my cousins, rather I had always felt such a strong connection to my parents; they were sort of like my best friends, and I never felt like I was lacking, growing up without a sibling. The three of us, we were enough for each other. Derek, Addison, and Carrie._

" _Higher, Daddy, higher!" I giggled, clinging tightly to his hand as he and Mom swung me back and forth, the nighttime streets filled with the laughter of little kids and illuminated by porch lights and creepy decorations. I loved every part of it._

" _Seriously, little brother, tell me your secret," my aunt Nancy joked._

" _What secret?" Dad laughed, swinging me again._

" _To parenting!" Nancy chuckled. "How do you get your child to love you this much? I can barely get mine to come downstairs for breakfast in the mornings."_

 _I simply grinned up at my parents. Despite the flowing black wig and dark lipstick, my mother looked back at me with the warmest smile. She and I both knew, there was no secret. There was just us._

" _Well," my dad began. "Okay. The secret. Here's what I got. Whenever I hear a little voice say 'higher, Daddy!' I just do THIS!"_

 _Suddenly my father's hands were underneath my arms, and he's tossing me into the air, shrieks of laughter escaping my lungs as I land in his embrace._

" _Is that what you meant by higher?" he grinned, kissing my cheek._

" _Yes! Yes!" I giggled. "Again!"_

" _Derek!" I heard Mom half-laugh half-shriek. "Injure my baby and you sleep outside!"_

 _Aunt Nancy snorted. "I see your little secret to parenting doesn't necessarily translate to marriage, does it O Wise One?"_

 _My aunts and parents would banter, but again and again my daddy would toss me into the air, and in those moments the thought occurred to me: maybe there could be one good, solid secret after all. No matter how far away I went, the people I loved most would always be there to catch me._

* * *

 _This year, we decided not to drive up to Connecticut for Halloween, because for the first time ever my K-12 New York City private school rented out a small portion of Central Park to host our very own "haunted" carnival. It had been a fairly warm fall season and according to my mother, who was a member of the Parents Association and the Booster Club, the carnival had been something the high schoolers wanted to put on for us elementary and middle schoolers for quite some time._

 _Even though I miss our tradition and my cousins, I am, admittedly, very excited. My best friend Morgan hasn't stopped talking about it for weeks; how there are going to be games, prizes, caramel apples, and best of all, a haunted maze._

 _Once again I hold my parents' hands as we cross the street together that night, with Mom dressed as the Queen of Hearts, Dad as the Mad Hatter, and me as Alice from_ Alice in Wonderland. _Yet another of our many ingenious family outfits._

 _It was past sundown, but there were so many people out running through the park—kids and adults dressed up just like us—and glowing sidewalk lamps as far as I could see._

 _To me, the tiny eight year old 4th grader, the carnival seemed huge. Decorations everywhere; giant jack-o-lanterns, creepy lights, scarecrows—"hey,_ that's _what we should have dressed up as this year!" Daddy jokes. "_ The Wizard of Oz! _"—and skeletons. Older students mill about, dressed up in everything from fairies to grim reapers._

 _At this point, none of it scared me. I could still feel my parents' hands in mine, and I had seen so many varieties of costumes during my years of trick-or-treating._

 _My eyes widen, taking in everything around me._

" _Can we go bob for apples, Mama?" I ask, looking up at my mother and taking in her billowing dress._

 _I remember going to the store with her to pick it out, after we all had decided that_ Alice in Wonderland _would be our theme for the holiday. I had sat in the corner of the dressing room until she needed my hands to zip her up in the back. She turned around to face me, and I took in the red and black dress, covered in white lace and hearts._

" _Well?" she smiled at me, placing her hands on her hips. "What do you think, Bear?"_

 _She turned toward the mirror, giving herself a once-over while subconsciously running her hand through my auburn brown hair. I love when she does that._

 _As an only child, the majority of my time spent at home is with adults. My grandma told me last summer that this is why my sense of humor or maturity level can sometimes surpass that of my peers. I never like to think about it that way though. I love my school and my friends; I'm just happy to be around people who make me happy, and part of that includes making them laugh._

 _One of my favorite feelings in the world is knowing I'm about to say something to make my mother laugh because to me, there is no better sound in the world._

 _I look up at her. "I think you're the perfect Evil Queen. Only thing you need now is for your interns to dress up as a deck of cards." I shrug casually for effect._

 _As always, Mom caught my reference and laughter filled our dressing room. Addison Shepherd knows better than anyone her reputation for being tough on her surgical interns. She tickled my ribs and, since I'm still small for my age, picked me up to rest on her hip._

 _My blushing cheek nestled perfectly against her shoulder as she left a kiss on my forehead._

" _Oh baby girl," she chuckled. "No one makes me laugh like you do."_

* * *

" _Please?" I ask. "Morgan said she'd meet us at the apple booth when we got here!"_

" _Then bobbing for apples it is!" Mom smiles._

" _Carrie!" Morgan waves eagerly from in front of the booth, dressed up as zombie ballerina. I glance up at my parents, silently asking their permission to run ahead._

" _Go have fun, kiddo," Mom says, twirling one of my curls with her finger. We had thought about getting a blonde wig, since I am supposed to be Alice after all, but all of the wigs I tried on had been extremely itchy. By the fifth one, my mother had sighed, saying "baby, I think we're just gonna have to introduce you to the curling iron this year."_

 _Thus, the auburn haired Alice emerged._

" _Thanks," I grin, before hurrying over to my best friend._

" _Just stay where we can see you, sweetheart!" Dad calls._

 _I turn around briefly. "I know, Daddy!" I call back. I can't help but smile, seeing him wearing that tall green hat and red wig underneath; the best Mad Hatter costume I've ever seen. I wave at them, and he wraps an arm around Mom's waist as she leans into him._

 _By the time I reach Morgan, she's beckoning me over._

" _Guess what?" she says, excitedly._

" _You chose that costume because you_ wanted _us to fit in with the rest of the girls in our class?" I reply rhetorically. It's not that the two of us are outcasts, we mostly just do our own thing and don't pay attention to school fights or drama with other girls._

" _Oh ha ha," Morgan rolls her eyes. "My brother and his friends are going through the haunted maze soon, and they asked_ us _if we want to go with them."_

 _I raise an eyebrow. I may only be eight years old and still not know a lot of things, but if there's one thing I do know it's that sixth graders willingly hanging out with fourth graders just doesn't happen. A defiance of playground logic, if you will. Especially considering I'm even more of a 'little kid' since I skipped the first grade._

" _Yeah right," I challenge. "Sixth graders wanting to hang out with us? Wasn't Alex the one who called us little maggots the last time I was at your house?"_

 _Morgan brushes me off with a wave of her hand. "Yeah but that was like...last weekend! Times have changed, we've grown!"_

 _I roll my eyes at my highly energetic friend. I've never been through a haunted maze before, but I love Halloween! Really. How scary could it be?_

 _About a half hour and a couple of booth prizes and face paintings later, Morgan's brother Alex runs up to us._

" _Hey you guys, we're gonna go get in line for the maze now, come on!"_

 _Morgan looks at me, silently urging me to come along._

" _Fine," I exhale. "Let me just ask my parents."_

 _I notice Mom and Dad are a couple booths ahead of us, Dad trying his hand at the ring toss. Mom spots me right away, running up to them._

" _Hey, sweetheart," she greets me, subconsciously fixing the blue bow that holds up my hair. "You and Morgan having fun?"_

" _Uh huh," I nod, leaning against her. "We got black cats painted on our cheeks!" I angle my face to show her, making her chuckle. "You guys win anything yet?" I ask._

" _Well," Dad starts, tossing his final ring and successfully landing it on top of a bottle. The high schooler working the booth cheerfully hands him his prize: a large stuffed monkey._

" _It appears your stuffed animal collection just gained a new comrade." He tosses the monkey at me playfully, making me giggle._

" _Umm I think I'll let you guys keep this one," I reply skeptically, handing it back to him._

" _What are you and Morgan up to next, huh?" Dad asks, tucking the stuffed animal under his arm._

" _Well…" I begin slowly. "Alex asked us if we want to go through the maze with him and some of his friends. They're getting in line now. Is...is it okay if I go with them?"_

 _The maze isn't huge, but it's not exactly small either, and save for sleepovers at Morgan's house or Grandma's house, it's bigger than anything I've ever done without my parents._

 _Mom looks over at the line of students hesitantly. Of course since she helped plan this event she knows everything that's in the maze, still, she's so protective of me. It's possible that throughout the entire process she remained in denial that her own daughter would want to branch out and try something new...and maybe a little out of her comfort zone._

" _How many kids are in your group?" Dad asks._

" _Umm six I think. Me, Morgan, and Alex, and then three of his friends."_

 _Dad exhales. "Well, if you promise to stick with your group—in the_ middle _of your group—I don't see why not."_

" _Thanks, Dad," I grin. "I'll come find you guys after we're through!"_

" _Wait, honey!" Mom stops me right as I turn to run off._

 _I pause, glancing back at her. The worry lines on her face pull me back to her._

" _What is it?" Dad asks her._

" _I just…" Mom breathes. "I think we should go with her. Honey, I think Daddy and I should go with you for your first time through."_

" _Mom, please?" I ask, already telling myself not to get too pushy or bratty. My mother has been a worrier my whole life; that's just who she is, and I'd never want to make her feel bad about it (especially because her own mother was—and is—less than stellar). "I promise I'll stay with the group."_

 _She rests her palm against my bare cheek, concern still plastered all over her face. I swallow, trying not to let the unease get to me too much, because right now it's as if she can sense something I can't. She knows something I don't._

" _What if we waited for her at the end?" Dad asks soothingly. He can usually sense Mom's nervousness and protective instincts as well as I can. "That way we can see her in line, know where she is, and find her right when she gets out."_

" _I promise I'll come find you right away!" I add._

" _I think Bear is old enough to handle one event on her own, Addie," Dad says, rubbing her back._

 _Mom's thumb strokes my cheek a couple times. "Okay," she nods. "Just one time through and then come find us."_

 _A wave of excitement passes through me. "Thanks, Mom. I'll be careful!"_

 _As I'm standing in line with Morgan and our group the air gets cold, like a brisk cold, and suddenly it was like this Halloween had an entirely different vibe._

 _My best friend's chattiness and excitement feeds into mine for a while, and I can't help but feel so grown up, doing something like this on my own. Maybe if I can prove to Mom that I can do this and come out alright at the end, it'll help ease some of her nerves._

 _Finally, it's our group's turn to go in. I take a deep breath, in and out, swallowing and grabbing hold of Morgan's hand._

 _We enter the room, and the stuffiness and heat engulf me. The music is loud and creepy, and instantly floods my nervous system. I hear kids laughing and screaming both behind and ahead of me. Instinctively, my hands reach upward for my parents' but are met with nothing. I am forced to remember that I chose this. I pushed them to let me do this on my own, and now I would not be able to see them again until after I journeyed through the maze._

 _Something jumps out in front of us and Morgan screams, grabbing my arm and pulling us into the next room, which had nothing but a strobe light to illuminate it. I focus on Morgan's hand around my wrist, something familiar. By now my heart rate has increased threefold, and the further we venture, the more difficult it becomes for me to breathe easily._

 _We enter a long hallway, where bloody handprints decorate the walls. A fog machine releases air thick enough to block our line of sight. A masked figure sneaks up on us and I scream. I am shaking so hard that it feels like we're only walking about a centimeter at a time, my feet just shuffling. Nothing in this maze is afraid to get in our faces._

 _We reach the end of the long hallway and I'm claustrophobic. The walls are closing in on me. I don't even want Morgan to touch me anymore. I don't want anything or anyone to touch me._

 _The constant flashing of the strobe light continues, at this point, probably enough to send someone into an epileptic seizure. An older kid in costume throws a fake axe in my path, muttering a "you're next."_

 _Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I don't like this at all. My mother, the skeptic, had been right._

 _What happens next I will spend the rest of my life only remembering snippets of._

 _I remember entering the next room and seeing what appeared to be surgery happening in a spooky hospital setting. My parents are surgeons. I always thought I knew quite a bit about surgery and babies and brains, at least more than the average 4th grader. But this is not what I thought surgery was supposed to look like. There is blood everywhere. Surgery is supposed to save people's lives, but this looks like a crime scene._

 _Here in the maze there are "doctors" working on a fake body. I can hear the gushy sound of the dummy's insides being taken apart. I want to throw up, but I can't look away. At this point I could be screaming and crying, but all I really know is that I can't breathe. This can't be right. Doctors are supposed to save lives._

 _One of the "doctors" looks up at me, and it turns out they're masked. An evil, bloody skeleton type mask with black holes where the eyes should be._

 _I scream bloody murder, just like the scene in front of me. My skin prickles, like a thousand needles being stuck into me at once, and then I go on autopilot. I'm screaming and wailing. I have no idea where Morgan is; she could be standing right in front of me and it wouldn't have made any difference._

 _Then, I'm running. Pushing through corners and walls and graveyards and things grabbing at my feet. I don't even know where I'm going, I just need to run. I hit a wall, and I'm digging and crawling to get underneath, my white tights ripping at the knees._

 _I hit another wall, a real wall, and this time it's outside of the maze. I can't dig under it, so instead I jump as high as I can over the top, scraping myself up pretty significantly. I jump down and keep running, crying, breathing as hard as I can. I feel like I'm surrounded; something is chasing me, out to harm me, but I can neither hear nor see it._

" _Stop! Stop! Stop!" I scream, willing this feeling of terror that's ripping me apart to go away._

 _I have no idea how long I've been running. The carnival is far behind me, and I'm deep in the park. It's dark, and there's hardly anyone around down here. I find a large tree and immediately fall to my knees, crying out upon the realization of how badly they hurt; streaks of red blood—my own blood—flow down my tights, and I'm sure my costume is ruined._

 _I can't catch my breath and the ground is spinning. I'm terrified, not to mention lost. Images of the bloody "hospital" walls from the maze flash through my mind, except this time I picture my mom's blood, or my dad's, or Morgan's, Auntie Amy's...everyone's. Everyone I love dying._

 _A wild animal makes a sound from up in the tree and I shriek, crawling away as fast as I can._

 _What I remember after that is falling to the ground completely, one kind of darkness making way for another._

* * *

 _I have brief recollections of the next few days._

 _I heard several voices calling my name in the park that night as I came in and out of consciousness. I must have thrown up after all, because my mouth tasted like a mixture of stomach acid and something else horrible._

 _Next, two pairs of arms were holding me, and a woman was sobbing. Even with my eyes closed I could feel that the arms belonged to Mom and Dad. The crying woman was Mom._

" _Oh my baby, thank god. Thank god we found you," she cried, noticing my eyes flutter, her hand holding my head right against her chest. Another voice began to cry behind us, and I realized it was my daddy._

 _Everything ached, inside and out. I felt so tired, frightened, and out of control._

 _I spent the next day and a half in a haze at the hospital, not wanting to be heavily medicated yet terrified of feeling anything. I remember my mom and dad sleeping in my room; both had refused to leave and I didn't want them to. The only real reason I wasn't freaking out over being in a hospital was because it was Mt. Sinai, where both my parents worked, and I trusted them._

 _The weather outside turned instantly colder and rainier, and I remember lying awake at night with my sleeping mother's arms around me, just watching the little droplets race down my window and listening to my daddy's light snoring from the cot next to us._

 _The continuous beeping of my heart monitor did not make me feel better. It seemed impossible for me to calm myself down, as if the maze had unleashed a massive beast of irrational, subconscious fears and behaviors that I had no control of. The only thing I could do, that night in the hospital, was snuggle deeper down against Mom's chest and wait for the inevitable: my pulse to skyrocket, trigger the monitor and wake her up, and let her soothe me by rubbing circles over my chest with her palm._

" _Mama's right here, Little Bear," she would whisper, over and over. "Daddy's right here."_

 _It took weeks before I could really confide in my parents about what happened, and even though I knew they were worried, I still didn't tell the whole story. For my entire life, my parents were a shining beacon of all things good, and kind, and safe in this world; I couldn't taint that by telling them all about the giant monster that had taken up residence inside my very core. I loved them too much._

 _I wished that I had the words to describe how I was feeling. An exact definition with an obvious cure. Sure the maze was scary, but a total dissociative breakdown followed by sleepless nights and irrational fears? I knew this wasn't over, and I was scared._

 _This wasn't just the beginning of the end of my love for Halloween. This was the beginning of the end of a huge aspect of who I was, and thus, more than I could even imagine._

* * *

 **Reviews would be greatly appreciated!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Here is chapter 5 for you, dear readers. I just took a much-needed trip out to New England and let's just say it provided me with a lot of inspiration I needed for this chapter. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

 _Derek  
_ **May 2009**

When Addison decided to move to LA two years ago, she hadn't been the one to tell Derek. After the divorce was finalized, most information Derek heard about his ex-wife had been through the hospital gossip train.

At the time, the grief of losing his daughter had manifested itself into the complete infatuation of Meredith Grey and total disregard for anything else, as if shoving aside the pain of his past life could make way for a new one. And so, after overhearing from a random scrub nurse that " _Dr. Montgomery accepted a new job in LA!_ " as he left the OR floor, he told himself that it didn't matter. That it would actually be easier to live his life without seeing her every day, and being reminded of not only the fact that she slept with his best friend, but also of Carrie.

Thinking back to those moments, Derek wanted to kick himself, because as the days turned into months and months turned into years, maintaining his facade became harder and harder, and he realized that the only person he really had to grieve with was gone.

And as stubborn as he was, he told himself that he didn't need her. That he would never need her again. That if he pushed the grief of Carrie's accident away long enough and forcefully enough, it would eventually disappear altogether.

How wrong he had been.

Now, as he sat on the Vashon Island ferry heading home from the hospital, he couldn't stop staring at the little black box in his hand. The little black box that contained the wedding ring his mother had given him during her visit to Seattle two weeks ago. He'd held one of these little black boxes before, except instead of his father's, it contained a ring that he had saved for three months to buy.

 _Your father always wanted you to have this, for the right girl._

Derek could hear his mother's words replaying in his head.

 _Addie wasn't right, clearly_.

Carolyn Shepherd had made it very clear that for some reason she believed it was in Derek's best interest to propose to Meredith, and soon. Meredith, whom she had only known for a number of hours and, over the past two years they'd been together, had made Derek just as crazy as she did happy (if not more).

Receiving the ring from his mother should have made him _deliriously_ happy. It should have made him forget about all of the crazy—including the complicated case they had just worked on together, the felon—and run straight to Meredith, taking her into his arms. If it had happened two years ago, maybe he would have.

Derek looked up, out toward the receding Seattle skyline that reflected perfectly against the sound. Since it was almost summer, the sun would be up for at least another two hours. The city was a calming view, one he had quickly become obsessed with upon moving here, and yet he could still feel the anger and confusion start to bubble up inside him.

Maybe his mother pushed Meredith on him because she was trying to make him feel better; after all, she had no idea the extent of his grief, or his process. As far as she knew, her son was open and ready for love again. He also knew from experience that no parent wanted to think about their child in pain.

What had been so wrong about the family he already had? What had been so wrong with Addison when he'd asked her to marry him almost 20 years ago now? And Carrie.

There was a time many years ago when Derek believed without a shadow of a doubt that his family was perfect. That his wife and daughter were all he would ever need to be content in this life. Yet here was this ring his mother had surprised him with two weeks ago to tell him...what? That the first time around hadn't been good enough? Addison and Carrie weren't deserving enough? He'd be damned if anyone ever told him he could have a child who was _better_ than Carrie, who could _replace_ her.

The heat began to pool in Derek's chest and he could no longer sit still. Exhaling, he paced along the outer deck of the ferry boat, feeling the cool, salty ocean breeze blow through his hair.

He sensed a tingling feeling in his right hand, the one that held the small black box, and if he hadn't recognized his own impulsiveness he may have thrown it into the sound at this very moment. Instead he dropped it deep into his jacket pocket, in exchange for his phone. Opening his email folder, what he then saw nearly made his heart stop.

From: Addison Montgomery

[no subject]

Hand trembling, he clicked on the message.

"Bear."

Derek swallowed. The message had said so little, yet so much. Regardless of any awkwardness, hostility, or distance between his ex-wife and himself, once Derek found out that Addison had decided to leave Seattle, 'Bear'—their daughter's nickname—became their 'emergency word.' Neither of them had ever truly processed their grief together; 'Bear' sent the message that 'I'll always be there if you need me.'

Derek was just too stubborn and heartbroken to ever admit that he needed her. But now, given everything with Meredith and his mother, he found himself dialing Addison's cell number.

He tried to remember the last time he heard her voice. How many months had it been? With each ring, the time seemed to melt away.

No answer. Addison's voicemail began to play into his ear.

 _You've reached Dr. Addison Montgomery. If you are a patient, please leave your name and number…_

Typical doctor's voicemail, Derek thought to himself. There was a pause, then the quick beep of the phone. He took a deep breath.

"Addison, hi," he exhaled. "It's Derek."

* * *

 **June 2007**

During the first year of Derek's neurosurgery residency at Sinai, there was a superstition among fellow doctors that 3:00am was the Devil's Hour. It was the hour when doctors on-call were likely to be the most tired. When admitted trauma patients were most likely to die on the table. When you were most likely to feel a quick shiver go down your spine if you walked through an abandoned hallway.

When he told his wife about the superstition and wondered if it had spread all the way to the OB/GYN department, she had laughed. Addison was never one for such things, or a believer in the supernatural; only coincidences. Even still, he hated working night shifts, and not just because it kept him away from his family.

He wasn't sure what exactly had prompted him to answer his pager when it had woken him up at one o'clock this morning; he was an attending, let a resident take it. However, in the three months since his daughter passed away Derek found himself acting in one of three ways: impulsively, passionately, or carelessly. There was no in-between. If he felt a sudden pull to do something, he would do it. Period. He would deal with the regret(s) later.

Currently, he was dealing with the regrets. Glancing up at the clock as he ripped off his scrub cap post-surgery, he saw it: the dreaded hour. A trauma patient had been admitted at one this morning for a severe TBI after being hit by a car. His brain was bleeding, and fast, but despite Derek's best efforts, he had died on the table at 3:14.

Derek wanted to scream. Car accidents had become very personal to him, and here was yet another victim of one, on his watch. Ignoring the melancholy voices of the handful of scrub nurses telling him he did the best he could, Derek stormed out of the scrub room, breathing heavily, looking for the first on-call room he could find.

What he found instead was the PICU in its lull of sleeping and stable children, all of whom seemed to be under three years old. The room was empty of adults, save for one red-headed woman sitting at the bedside of a baby no bigger than Derek's arm, taking its vitals. Despite the impossibly late hour, it was Addison.

"Car accident," Addison confirmed, startling Derek. Then again, he shouldn't be surprised that after all these years she could sense his presence better than most anyone. "Six month old baby was in the car with Mom when they got sideswiped by a tow-truck. Mom's been unconscious in the ICU for three days."

Addison's voice sounded robotic, almost. Going through the motions. Heartbroken.

"And the baby?" Derek managed, taking a step forward.

"Got lucky," Addison replied, listening to its heart with her stethoscope. "Car seat was rear-facing and didn't get the full impact. She managed to get by with nothing more than a broken wrist and some bruising."

Derek exhaled a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

"She?" he said.

Addison sighed. He couldn't see her face, yet he could tell she had closed her eyes.

"Samantha," she uttered.

Derek swallowed, and for the first time since Carrie's death, resisted an impulse: to pull Addison into his arms. Samantha had been the name of their daughter's favorite doll. The one with sheer angel wings that had magic powers and could fly. Herbie the elephant had slept in Carrie's bed, but Samantha sat faithfully on the nightstand for all the years of Carrie's childhood.

"It's the magic powers," he concluded, coming to stand next to the crib opposite his ex-wife.

Addison paused for a moment before looking up at him. Her ocean green eyes were tired, and the breath left Derek's chest once more, if only because of how much of their daughter he saw in them.

"What?" she breathed.

Derek reached down to let the sleeping baby hold onto his finger.

"Samantha's have magic powers," he repeated quietly, watching the baby. "And angel wings to fly with."

Addison's eyes filled before disappearing behind their lids once more.

"Oh yeah," she whispered.

Derek's mouth opened and closed a couple times before any words came out.

"Addison…" he started, finally.

"I don't want to talk about it, Derek," she cut him off, hooking her stethoscope around her neck and pulling out Samantha's chart to write in.

"But...you're moving," he continued, gently. He couldn't help but push.

Addison stood up quickly, filing the chart away next to Samantha's monitor.

"I said I don't want to talk about it," she repeated, a little more forcefully, yet quietly for the baby's sake.

Derek sighed. "I just think that…"

"What?" Addison snapped, walking briskly toward the window and running a hand through her hair before turning on her heel to face him. "You just think what? We're not married anymore, remember?" By this point she was whisper-yelling. "You have made it clear this past year that you no longer love me, so I don't have to justify anything to you, Derek. I don't need to know what you think, hell, I don't even have to _care_ what you think—about anything!"

Her words cut into him like a knife. Derek knew her heart was broken, and there was nothing anyone could do to fix it, least of all him. But his heart was broken too; the two of them had lost a daughter and their marriage, all within a two month period of each other, yet they couldn't seem to be able to grieve together the way a married couple should. Carrie's death hadn't brought them closer together, but neither had her life, and that killed him.

Addison stared at him intently, exquisite eyes shimmering in the dimly lit room. It was almost as if she were challenging him, willing him to fight her, to fight _for_ her. Although who was she kidding? The time to fight for her had been months ago when their marriage first started going south, and he couldn't. Now it was too late.

"I can't be here anymore, Derek," she choked. He strained to hear her. "I can't sleep anymore, so I spend my nights here in the hospital, saving babies, because that...that is something I _can_ do. I can be here, right _here_ , exactly when they need me. I'm _exhausted_ and I can't…"

The tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she did her best to swallow them back.

"I don't know how you wake up in that trailer every day, on that property, knowing that she…"

That that was where their daughter died three months ago. Derek wished he knew too, because he realized how it must look. Yet the only reasonable response he could come up with was:

"I can't leave her."

Carrie had died in an accident on that property out on Vashon Island and, to Derek, that meant a part of her would always remain there. And he couldn't leave her behind again.

Addison let out an exasperated sigh, like she wanted to yell but just couldn't muster the energy.

"When…" Derek tried again. "When are you leaving?"

"I gave Richard my official two weeks notice three days ago," Addison replied. "I'll be out of Seattle by July and you can...you can have your life here with Meredith and you can move on. _We_ can move on."

Derek didn't know what to say, or how to feel. Twenty years he had known this woman, created a life and the most perfect child with this woman, and within two weeks she was just going to be gone. This felt different than when he left New York last summer. The anger he felt toward Mark and his ex-wife felt so small now, and paled in comparison to the grief that swelled up inside of him.

Then it hit him:

He didn't want her to leave.

He didn't know how to tell her to stay.

He was at an impasse. It would have been selfish of him to ask her to stay, especially given that he was in a relationship with Meredith, and Addison was a grieving mother doing what she needed to do to survive.

Slowly he reached forward and took hold of her hand, those soft and beautiful hands that had held their daughter from birth to death, now free of the wedding bands she had worn for 19 years.

He could tell that it was taking all of her efforts to hold it together.

"I just, I want you to know…" he began, his voice heavy. "That I'm sorry. I'm partly to blame for what happened to our marriage. And you're right...I don't have a say in your life anymore. I hope that LA is everything you need it to be."

Addison blinked rapidly a few times before taking a deep breath.

"And," he continued. "I couldn't have asked for a better mother to my daughter."

Derek knew his ex-wife was not in the best place to be hearing this, but he never would have forgiven himself if he let her leave without saying it.

Addison ripped her hand away as if she experienced an electric shock, and her lower lip trembled as more tears spilled from her eyes.

"I can't," she stammered, trying to conceal her face with one hand. "I can't do this. I can't do this." Her voice dropped to an even lower whisper as she headed straight for the door. He had been married to her long enough to know all about her inclination to either cry alone, or not at all. Right now, 'not at all' was not an option.

He followed her into the hallway. Luckily given the time it was mostly deserted.

"Addison, wait," he called out.

"Derek please," she choked, stopping right in the doorway of an empty on-call room. "Please. I need to...please just leave me alone."

Her chest was heaving, and he knew she was about to lose control. It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms, the way he had done so many times throughout their marriage. Except they weren't married anymore; she was moving 1000 miles away, and he was with Meredith.

Addison shut the door behind her, and Derek had no idea what to do beyond leaning his forehead against it, silently cursing himself.

"Addie…" he muttered. He felt a soft thud on the other side of the door; she was leaning against it. She could hear everything he said, and so he knew he had to choose his next words very, very carefully.

"I know I don't have any right to tell you to stay," he said. "But...if you ever need me, you know to talk, about...anything, I can be here."

Derek paused. Addison was silent, but he could feel her still listening.

"Bear," he said hoarsely. "If you ever need anything, just say the word. Bear."

Another soft thud came from the other side, and Derek pressed one hand up against the door. The hallway was so quiet, all he could hear was the distant beeping of a single heart monitor, and the subtle ticking of the nurses' station clock. Addison's silence made each second feel like an eternity, until he realized two things.

That he not only deserved it, but also that an eternity might just be the amount of time she needed before ever speaking to him again.

* * *

 **June 2009**

Derek arrived at work in the morning hoping to be as subtle as possible.

Time moved in slow motion since the day his mother had given him the ring, yet his mind was moving a million miles an hour and it was all he could do to keep up with all the signs the universe seemed to be giving him.

The universe told him to propose to Meredith.

The universe would not let him forget Addison.

Which was it?

A year ago he would given into his impulses and proposed to Meredith on a whim, and yet, a year ago he was still in complete denial that his old life was gone. Sure he put on a assuring front, and treated Addison horribly while she was trying to fix their marriage, but there was always that small part of him that had convinced himself that, no matter how unfair to her, his wife would always be there, and that he had been a good enough father to Carrie.

After her death, Derek hadn't been so sure anymore, and his uncertainty remained for at least a few months after Addison moved to LA. Then he had gotten so involved in his relationship with Meredith that he forced himself to shove his grief deep down, and remember the times he had with Carrie when they were close and he was, without a doubt, a _good_ father.

Right now, he did not feel like this little black box made him a very good father.

"Whoa. What is that?"

Mark Sloan caught him off guard as he headed swiftly down the first floor hallway. Derek cursed himself internally for being noticed.

"What do you think it is?" he challenged, fully aware that his best friend already knew the answer.

"That's dangerous," Mark said. "People who carry guns are more likely to fire 'em. You sure you're ready?"

"Yeah, yeah of course," Derek replied quickly, hoping to convince himself as much as Mark. "Why wouldn't I be? That's not the problem; she's the problem. If I don't do this just right she'll panic. Do you think she's ready?"

Mark noticed his hesitation. "I don't know. More importantly, if you don't know, you shouldn't do anything until you do know."

"Yeah," Derek breathed, nodding.

"Derek," Mark said, firm enough to stop him.

Derek looked up at him, and Mark gingerly pulled him off to the side.

"Are you _sure_ this is what you want?"

His best friend was rarely this serious, and admittedly it caught him off guard.

"Seriously, Mark?" Derek replied lightly, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "When I told you I was proposing to Addison all you said was 'congratulations.'"

Mark gazed at him again and patted his arm gently.

"Exactly."

* * *

Derek's proposal to Addison had been...unconventional to say the least. 1989 had produced an usually warm spring, and so that March during their week off from school, Derek had brought her up to Connecticut for a visit with his mother and sisters. Mark, of course, had come with them.

" _I'm going to send Addison on a scavenger hunt around town," he told his mother, the morning before he planned to propose. His girlfriend was not yet awake. "So when she wakes up and asks where I am, give her this. Kathleen will be waiting at the market with the next clue."_

 _He handed his mother a letter, sealed away in an envelope. He had told Carolyn weeks ago of his plan, and despite any uncertainty she had supported him, especially after he told her that he hadn't felt this happy since before his father had died._

Derek's patient today was a warm and kind yet harried and very pregnant woman named Jen, who just so happened to have run over her husband with their car. So far her neuro exam looked good and despite some high blood pressure, she seemed relatively healthy.

And as fate would have it, Meredith was assigned to his service. It was her job to keep Jen's blood pressure down before it affected the baby.

The problem was, this situation did nothing to keep _him_ calm.

After a talk with Richard and mentioning of grand gestures, Derek found out that—no surprise—Mark had not done a good job keeping the proposal to himself. Again.

" _Mark, I think you've told just about everyone_ but _Addison," Derek joked, before sending his best friend to the health section of the public library with the third clue. "Let's try to keep it that way until she finds me at the park this afternoon."_

 _The park. Where Derek planned to propose. The park his father used to take him to every Saturday afternoon as a child, rain or shine._

Jen, his patient, saw the ring in his pocket and told him not to be nervous. A grand gesture wasn't needed, so long as he could prove to Meredith his love for her.

Cristina Yang said that a grand gesture would send Meredith running for the hills. That she had built him a house out of candles because he liked it, but she didn't.

" _This is so great. Addie's going to love this," a high-school aged Amelia gushed, pushing herself back and forth on the swing. It was no secret that his youngest sister was terrible at keeping (his) secrets, so as annoying as she was, Derek hadn't let her out of his sight all day._

 _Meanwhile Derek had been pacing, repeatedly checking his watch; if everything went according to plan, Addison would be walking up to him in about 20 minutes._

Building a house on his Vashon Island property had been Derek's plan since the day he moved out to Seattle. Meredith knew this, and Addison and Carrie had known it too. Cristina had been right; he loved the idea. He loved the idea of a quiet, wide open space, growing old with the love of his life. Yet when he thought long and hard about his quiet, wide open space, the one person who he pictured living there with him, without a shadow of a doubt, was his daughter.

Perhaps the only person in this world who he had ever loved unconditionally was no longer a part of this world. The true love of his life was gone; now who would be the one to help him pick up the pieces?

* * *

"This is stupid. She's gonna hate this," Derek said to Mark later that night, after decorating Meredith's bedroom—almost to a fault—with candles and roses, in preparation for his proposal.

"What, the flowers?" Mark replied. "Girls love this crap."

"It's a cliche," Derek concluded, furrowing his brow at the rose-petal covered bed. "I'm a cliche."

"Hey," Mark shrugged. "Just because you used up your most creative idea the first time doesn't mean Meredith won't think this is romantic or whatever. Cliches became cliches for a reason. Because they worked."

" _Derek, what's going on?" Addison looked at him apprehensively, holding up the last clue as she walked up to him at the park. He had joined Amelia on the swing set about 10 minutes ago, becoming so nervous it became difficult to stand. Luckily the adrenaline rush upon seeing his girlfriend was enough to rid his knees of any shakiness._

" _You sent me all over town," she chuckled._

" _I know," he breathed, trying—and probably failing—to hide the stupid grin on his face._

" _We've been waiting here for you the whole time," Amelia grinned mischievously, and Derek shot her a look before standing up._

" _What?" Addison's ocean eyes sparkled as Derek took her hand. She looked stunning in her jeans and cream-colored sweater. Casually beautiful._

" _I...wanted to bring you here because this was the park my dad used to bring us to as kids, every Saturday," he told her. "And I wanted you to be part of it."_

 _She smiled, glancing quickly at Amelia and waiting for him to continue._

" _Addison," he began, reaching for the little black box in his jacket pocket. "I've loved you since the day I met you, that first day of class when I got assigned to be your lab partner. And I never want to stop loving you."_

 _She audibly gasped, and the sparkle in her eyes made him weak in the knees all over again. He knelt down._

" _And so I sent you here, now, to ask you...will you marry me?"_

"Well, you're all set here," Mark said, tossing one last handful of rose petals on the floor. "I'm gonna leave you to it."

Derek looked over at his friend gratefully. "Thanks."

Mark turned toward the door before pausing. "Derek?"

"Yeah?"

 _A single tear escaped down Addison's cheek, and Derek reached up to gently wipe it away with his thumb._

" _Yes," she whispered, nodding. "Yes I will marry you."_

 _Derek ran a his thumb over her soft hand before sliding the ring—a perfect fit—onto her finger. As he looked up at her porcelain features he swore he had never seen anything so beautiful. And as she pressed her lips against his, holding his face in her hands, everything around him disappeared. He barely heard the sounds of applause coming from their family and friends._

 _All he knew was her. And that one day they would have a daughter, the perfect blend of her mother and father; a precious little girl who loved nothing more than to hear the story—every night before bed—of how her daddy proposed to Mama at the park by the swing set. And one day she would ask him to reenact it as a surprise for her mother's 30th birthday._

" _I love you so much, Derek," Addison choked, burying her face in his shoulder. He smelled the sweet perfume as his lips left a subtle trail down her neck. "And I promise I'll never stop loving you."_

 _He held her tightly to him, with everything he had, knowing that if he could pick one moment to stay in for the rest of his life, it would be this one._

Mark gave him a supportive smile. "Congratulations."

Derek sighed, the little black box once again feeling like a brick in his pocket.

"Thanks, Mark."

His friend left and once again he was left alone with his thoughts, and to wait for Meredith. Mark and Derek had been through more than any two best friends should have to together, and this was one of those moments where he was really blown away by it all. Mark had been with him every step of the way; the good and the bad. The first marriage and now possibly the second. It was all too much.

Derek swallowed, heading toward the bed to sit down when from his pocket his phone buzzed.

Call it coincidence, call it fate. His heart skipped a beat upon seeing who it was.

"Addison?"

* * *

 **Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** So I know I've kind of sucked at updating Fanfiction for the last, like, year and a half, but that's what happens when you move cross-country and work 50+ hours a week and blah blah blah. Anyway, I promise I haven't abandoned this story! This chapter is on the longer side and very Addison-centric, so I hope that kind of makes up for my slacker ways.

Also, let me just say I am loving that Addek fics are making a comeback again. Keep up the good work, y'all!

Thanks for sticking with me :)

*rated M in the middle*

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

* * *

 _Addison  
_ **June 2009**

The weeks went by slowly. Addison felt lazy and quiet, as if the molecules of her body were knitting together, healing the parts of her that had stayed so raw back in Seattle. As May rolled into June, she slept a lot, everywhere but in her bed: on the living room sofa, in the lounge chair on the back porch, on a blanket on the beach.

After her daughter's accident Addison had had a year of insomnia, but this time was different. Usually she relived that last morning: a hurried breakfast with Derek and Carrie, plans for various surgeries, errands, and swim practice, the ease of it all, the astonishing ordinariness of that last day. And despite the impending separation and divorce that hovered over the three of them ominously, there had been no signs that life as they'd all known it would soon be over.

Carrie had smiled. Addison remembered that every sleepless night: Carrie's pretty, tired smile at the breakfast table.

Derek had wanted to believe that his daughter's first love was no big deal, that Carrie would get through it, outgrow her feelings for Jason, learn a lesson and be stronger for it. Deep down Addison had known this was because more than anything, her ex-husband hated seeing their daughter in pain. Sure he had been outwardly supportive of Carrie—offering to talk for as long as she needed, taking her side against Jason—but every time he would race off to work Addison saw it: their daughter's heart was breaking, and even though they had moved out to Seattle, Derek was once again losing track of what they needed. Not just Addison and Carrie, but the three of them, all together, as a family.

Derek wanted to think Carrie was fine, that school and swimming would take her mind off of the break-up. When Addison had gazed at her daughter across the table that morning, she'd expected to see dark shadows under her eyes, worry and anxiety and a wish the phone would ring, a constant vigilance, hoping and waiting for Jason to come back. Instead she saw Carrie smiling, with something like relief.

All those sleepless nights when Addison had remembered Carrie's smile, she'd asked herself: if Carrie could look that way at breakfast, even for a few seconds, with laughter behind her eyes, and real humor, how was it possible for her to feel such despair just two hours later that she'd push down on the gas so hard she'd hit the tree going fifty or more?

But these last few weeks in Malibu had given her moments of distraction from those thoughts. After her breakdown in Wyatt's office she had kept her distance, avoiding his pitying glances as much as possible. She had guarded herself for so long she felt strange and exposed. It haunted her—not only the horror of losing her daughter, but the fact that nothing with her ex-husband felt resolved, and how much of a mess she consistently made of her romantic relationships.

Until late last night, Derek's voicemail had remained in her inbox, neglected for nearly a month. Try as she might, Addison just couldn't bring herself to listen. Actually that was a lie; she hadn't tried. Not at all. In fact, the first thing she had done after noticing her ex-husband's name pop up on her phone that workday evening was ignore it and head straight down to the fourth floor of her office building to make out with another man. She felt embarrassed for even contacting him in the first place; a moment of 2:00am weakness.

Even after two years of being divorced, Derek Shepherd touched a soft, painful spot in Addison's heart.

That morning she got up at dawn. She fed Milo, the orange tabby cat she had inherited from a patient, and stood in the cozy kitchen waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. Staring out the sliding glass doors, she couldn't even see the ocean 20 feet away: the fog was so heavy it swaddled the house, made every object invisible to everything else. The aptly named Los Angeles 'June Gloom' had settled in, and matched Addison's mood completely.

As lonely as she was, however, she did have some affinity for this new home on the beach. It was sort of the perfect combination of modern and vintage, of East Coast and West Coast, nostalgic and futuristic.

Pouring herself a cup of coffee, Addison wandered lazily into the living room, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. Throughout most of her professional life, it was rare for her to be dressed and ready so early; that was one of the first things she established after becoming an attending surgeon, no appointments before 10:00am. Her early mornings were to be spent resting, studying, and enjoying time with her adolescent daughter.

Now, it was as if so many of those old habits had died right alongside Carrie.

Addison stood in front of the bookcase next to the television. Five shelves high, it contained everything from old medical textbooks to biographies to trashy romance novels to some of the classics from Carrie's old high school reading lists; memories Addison just couldn't bring herself to let go of.

While Milo finished his breakfast, Addison stood with her coffee mug staring at the books. They covered decades, and dozens of different stages of life. And yet on this particular morning there was one specific book that caught her eye: a cookbook. Julia Child's _Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume I_.

Addison swallowed, reaching for the well-worn cookbook. Its cover was paperback, and the had curled outward with age. She turned the pages, noticing her daughter's fine handwriting on the flyleaf and in the margins.

It had been abundantly clear that from a young age Carrie had inherited her father's love for the culinary arts. Addison remembered more Saturdays than not waking up to the smell of fresh pancakes or waffles, with either poached eggs or omelettes—Julia's recipe of course—and fresh fruit. Every weekend, without fail, the smell would reach her bedroom. Addison's heart felt heavy in her chest, remembering the sound of her husband and daughter's laughter that had wafted upstairs with it.

A lump formed in Addison's throat as she set her mug down and began to flip through the pages. Oh how she yearned for that smell to return. Those sounds. Eavesdropping on Derek and Carrie's study sessions on how to make the world's greatest chocolate souffle.

She ran her thumb over the phrase "stir for two minutes," written in Carrie's handwriting; this had been for one of Julia's custard recipes where Derek and Carrie had decided to go rogue. Standing there, Addison felt the desire to make something simple that would taste delicious, but who was she kidding. She knew if she so much as tried her daughter would just stand behind her the entire time, alternating between giggling and rolling her eyes at Addison's many inevitable mistakes.

Still, Addison's skin tingled, as if Carrie were right there with her, helping her come up with a plan to reach out to her ex-husband again. Slowly, she closed the book and slid it back onto the second-to-highest shelf, reclaiming her mug.

"Love you, Little Bear," she muttered. Those three little words she did her best to mutter at least once every day.

She was just about to turn back toward the kitchen when a boisterous "good morning!" came from the bottom of the staircase, nearly startling her to the point of spilling her coffee. It was her older brother, Archer, who had been staying in her guest room the past two nights. A surprise visit.

Addison placed a hand to her chest, gathering herself.

"Oh, morning Arch," she breathed.

"Up so soon?" he asked in a cheerful tone, making a beeline for the coffee pot. "I thought 7:00am stopped existing in your book after residency."

"Yeah well, a lot of things have changed since residency," Addison grumbled. "What are you still doing here, by the way, besides sleeping with my best friend?"

"Come on, you're still hung up on that?" Archer grabbed a mug from the cabinet, filling it up before turning to look at her incredulously. "Naomi is a grown, _single_ woman who is perfectly capable of-"

"I am well aware of what she's capable of Archer, I witnessed it firsthand after walking in on you sticking your tongue down her throat in Wyatt's office the other night," she responded coldly.

Her ex-fling's name tasted like pennies in her mouth, as if the universe were mocking her for finally being ready to confront him, weeks after their kiss in his office. _Sorry Addison, you were too late again! Wyatt left! You blew it again!_

"So then I don't know what your deal is," he finished.

Addison set her mug on the counter, leaning back against the kitchen island.

"My deal is…" she began. "You don't even call first! You just walk in, walk out whenever you choose, sleeping with anyone with a pulse-"

"I wouldn't say _anyone_ …" Archer muttered, interrupting.

"...and I'm tired of always catching you in the act!" Addison finished, ignoring him and making a face, remembering the first time her brother had visited last year and she and her ex-boyfriend Kevin had walked in on him, stark naked with the neighbor on her kitchen floor.

She exhaled, folding her arms across her chest.

"Addie, really," Archer said calmly. "You know me...this is just what I do! And like I said last night...I miss you. And you might not want to believe it, but...we do make a good team."

* * *

 **Last Night  
** **June 2009**

Treating patients in the middle of tumultuous relationships had always been difficult for Addison, but especially so after her divorce. Ever since she was a teenager she had been a romantic at heart, always wanting to believe in love as the ultimate higher power. This was perhaps, she thought, because she had never been able to witness firsthand a loving marriage until she had one of her own; until she met Derek and felt firsthand what it was like to be the center of someone's universe.

And he had been the center of hers, too. Him and Carrie.

Now, standing outside of St. Ambrose Hospital on this warm early summer evening, Addison leaned back against a parked ambulance, hands behind her head, and wondered about the last time her patient and her partner were truly happy together.

When Addison had been called into the emergency department earlier this evening, it had been for a pregnant woman named Jane Williams experiencing symptoms of a stroke. Yet as Addison stared upward toward the remarkably smogless sky, reminiscing on this particular case, it wasn't Jane's procedures—the clot evacuation and eventually emergency c-section—that stuck with her; it had been Jane's relationship with her partner, Tim.

Suffice it to say, when Addison first walked into the emergency room, she met a couple who wanted nothing to do with one another. Who liked each other just long enough to conceive, and then had fought their way through the last nine months, all the way up to Jane's stroke.

First there was love, and then suddenly there wasn't. Just like Addison and Derek.

Until she saw them with their baby. As soon as she handed Jane her son it had been as if a spark had relit in her eyes. Tim had sat down on the bed beside her and wrapped his arms around his family.

First there was love, and then suddenly there wasn't, but then...there still was.

Just like Addison and Derek?

The nighttime ocean breeze sent a shiver down Addison's body and she folded her arms across her chest. Thinking of her ex-husband, her phone suddenly felt exceedingly heavy in the pocket of her scrub pants. His voicemail, his voice, just sitting there, waiting for her.

The impulse was too much, and for the first time in almost a month she pulled out her phone, opened the voicemail folder, and clicked on Derek Shepherd's name.

" _Addison, hi,"_ came his voice, and right away the background wind told her he was outside.

 _Probably on one of those damn ferry boats_ , she thought to herself. The message continued.

" _It's Derek. I uh...I just wanted to let you know I got your email from the other night. Listen I know it's been a while but..."_ he paused, and Addison took another breath. _"If you need to talk about...anything, I'm here. I know I wasn't always there before but if you want to talk about...her, I'm here."_

Addison swallowed, eyes filling with tears, remembering one of the last conversations she had with Derek before moving to LA.

 _If you ever need anything, just say the word. Bear._

There was another long pause before Derek spoke again.

" _I miss her too, Addie. I thought it would get easier but...it doesn't. I guess the only thing I've learned these past few years is that I don't actually know anything."_ Derek chuckled, and Addison internalized the sound, letting it fill her soul. That man. That laugh. _"At least I think that's what Bear would say. Okay so maybe that means I know one thing."_

Addison chuckled, listening to him start to ramble, like he used to do so often when they had first met and he was young and awkward.

" _Anyway,"_ he continued. _"If you want to call me back when you get this you can...or not. Email works too. Take care of yourself, Addie, really."_ Pause again. _"Okay!"_ he gathered himself. _"I'll talk to you later. I lo-"_

The message ended, and Addison found herself unable to breathe. Was she going crazy, or did the end of a sentence get cut off? She tried to shrug it off, thinking it was probably just a reflex from the thousands of phone calls they'd had throughout their nearly 18-year marriage. Yet there it was.

 _I lo-_

What was going on his life that he'd do such a thing? Were he and Meredith no longer together? Had he been thinking of Carrie and the words just slipped out? Or did he really still…?

No. It was just a reflux.

Shoving her phone back into her scrub pants pocket, Addison wiped away any stray tears and leaned back against the ambulance.

"Pretty good team, you and me."

A voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. Archer. Her brother, surprise visitor, and as if that weren't enough, the neurologist who worked alongside her on Jane's case.

"Whoa, did I interrupt something?" He noticed her reaction.

"No," she breathed. "No it's fine I… _no_ we are not a good team." Addison collected herself. "I made a life here, Archer, away from Bizzy, away from...away from Derek. I'm trying to figure out...me. And I can't do that with you...judging everything that I do."

Her brother laughed. "I think this trip might actually be the _longest_ I've gone without being judgmental."

"Yeah until next week when you're writing up a hit list of all the men I've dated and sleeping with half the women in my office…"

"I will be supremely supportive," Archer responded calmly.

"Archer...you don't know how to stay out of my life," Addison challenged. "You never have! And when I needed someone to make Phil Davidson pay for leaving me out at the lake when we were 16, that was great. But now, when I'm struggling to find my footing in this place that's mine…"

 _And struggling to figure out my feelings for a man I'm no longer married to..._

Archer gave her a sincere look.

"I miss you."

"I miss you too, but this isn't a visit, and you just proved that by sleeping with my best friend and blowing up a blood clot in my patient's brain!"

"Blowing up a blood clot?" Archer joked. "Is that your professional medical assessment, _blowing up_ …"

"Oh stop it," Addison snapped, waving her hand.

"Look, Addie," he sighed, taking a more serious tone. "I just wanted to be closer. We stopped talking after you moved to Seattle, and after Carrie...I wanted to make sure you were okay. And _no_ this is not Bizzy, or some ulterior motive. You're my family."

Addison found herself swallowing back more tears at the mention of her daughter's name again and slowly, she reached over to grab his hand.

Archer looked into her eyes, willing her to meet his gaze. Finally she did, her eyes glassy, and eventually she had to smile at the goofy grin he was giving her.

"Fine, I'll say uncle this time," she caved, before holding up a finger. "But you are not moving in with me."

Archer chuckled, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.

"Don't worry sis, I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

 **Present Time  
** **June 2009**

"I knew there had to be a reason you were Carrie's favorite relative," Addison admitted, emitting a slight grin.

Archer stuck a couple pieces of whole wheat bread into the toaster.

"Why because I'm so full of wit, charm, and adventure?"

"She certainly seemed to think so," Addison said. As much as the heaviness in her chest threatened to swallow her whole every time she spoke about her daughter, for some reason this morning it felt good to banter back and forth about her. It was like Carrie were standing in the kitchen with them.

Her brother turned to look at her again.

"Well as much as I love hearing that, that girl was all you, Addie," he said. "She worshipped the ground you walked on."

Addison chuckled lightly. "Yeah, right. I was probably more dorky and annoying than anything else." The lump in her throat prevented her from continuing.

"Maybe she said that to your _face_ ," Archer shrugged. "But the stories she'd tell me about babies you saved, or the weekend trips you made together, or how much she loved that you were always louder than all the other mothers at her swim competitions…"

"She really...she really said that, huh?" Addison managed.

"Yeah, she did," Archer nodded. "Trust me, I don't think I could have corrupted a soul that pure if I tried."

Addison laughed. "Well good. At least now as far as I know no one ever told her it was a good idea to go and do it on an office floor."

"I...wouldn't necessarily get so high and mighty on that one, Addison" her brother replied. "If I remember correctly, if you'd never had sex in an office then I wouldn't even have a niece to begin with."

Addison nearly choked on her coffee.

He had her there.

* * *

 **April 1990**

If there was one thing 24-year-old Addison hated more than staying awake for nearly 40 hours straight, it was filing away paperwork, especially at 8:00 in the evening and the day after an all-nighter. Needless to say, when she came to her favorite professor at the start of the semester and practically begged to get in on her molecular genetics research internship program, she had pictured herself on the ground floor, directly assisting in some sort of medical breakthrough.

What she hadn't pictured was herself, sitting curled up on the floor of said professor's office after dark, organizing stacks upon stacks of documents.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

At this point, she was certain the floor was empty, save for the occasional whirring sound of the custodian cleaning at the other end of the hallway. And so as she finished filing away her second-to-last stack, she leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes and covering her mouth as she yawned. She gave up looking up and out the window once the sun had set two hours ago, instead sandwiching herself between the wall and desk, willing the time to go by faster so she could go home to her husband.

"Come on, Addison," she whispered to herself. "Just one more stack." Nevermind that said stack was over an inch thick. "This will all be worth it once you get that surgical residency recommendation in two years."

"Is that seriously what you tell yourself before coming into this office every day?"

A voice startled her awake, but she relaxed immediately upon realizing whose it was. Her husband hadn't been at home after all, because there he stood in the doorway.

Derek chuckled, stepping into the room and pulling the door closed behind him.

"When Dr. Sanderson keeps me here past six o'clock, yes it is," Addison replied, without missing a beat. "What are you still doing here, hon?"

"Well," Derek said, sliding his bag off of his shoulder and onto a chair before sitting down beside her. "I was studying in the library downstairs, and I remembered you mentioning you might be late tonight so I figured I might as well stick around for a while."

"Aw," Addison smiled tiredly, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, babe. Libraries are no fun."

Derek kissed the top of her head.

"Yeah well," he exhaled. "Neither is an empty house."

Addison smiled again, the subtle smell of her husband's cologne relaxing her. Soon she felt Derek's hand on her back, gently rubbing up and down.

"Honey," she muttered. "I've been awake for nearly 40 hours. You keep doing that and I'm going to fall asleep in here for the next 12."

"Good," Derek replied. "Because you need it. Are you sure none of this can wait until tomorrow?"

"No," Addison sighed. She could hear the worry in his voice; her husband always worried about her when she didn't get enough sleep, but as much as she wished he wouldn't, she loved him for it. "Dr. Sanderson has a presentation tomorrow and she said she needed all of this organized and easily accessible by then. So I guess I _could_ put it off if I wanted to get fired…"

"At this point that doesn't sound like a terrible idea…" Derek muttered.

"Honey," Addison chuckled. "I promise, it's fine. A good recommendation from Sanderson means hopefully getting into a top surgical residency program. And hey I'm almost done anyway. Just one more pile."

"Why don't you let me help," Derek said, picking up the first file. "Let's see...lab results from last January's trial…"

"Top shelf," Addison said.

Derek picked up another, this time reading the title with a funny British accent, and Addison snorted. Her boss was British, and Derek was clearly making fun of her.

"Top shelf again," Addison laughed.

For the next 45 minutes the two of them finished organizing the files together, laughing so hard that by the time they finished Addison was throwing her head back and holding onto her side.

"Thanks for that," she breathed, wiping at her eyes.

"What can I say," Derek grinned. "I'm your husband. It's my job to make your tedious tasks a little less tedious."

"Oh really?" Addison met his gaze. "Can I say the same about emptying the dishwasher then? Or vacuuming the living room?"

Derek opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again right away.

"That's what I thought," Addison chuckled, leaning against him again. This time Derek wrapped his arms tightly around her middle, pressing his lips against her temple.

"What do you say we head home and I'll run you a warm bath before bed?"

Addison grinned, stretching her legs out. Today had been an unusually warm spring day for New York City, so naturally she wore one of her flowy, v-neck floral summer dresses that went down to just above the knee. Her red, pedicured toenails had matched it perfectly.

"I'd say that sounds heavenly, but only if you join me." She leaned her head back to kiss along his jawline.

"I think that's a definite possibility," he smiled.

Addison sighed, lazily running a hand up and down her husband's thigh. He left a few more kisses along her face and temple, before gently placing a hand beneath her jaw, turning her to look at him.

From the day she met Derek Shepherd in gross anatomy class, she knew; there would be no place or amount of time that could stop her from going weak at the knees every time she gazed into those deep blue eyes. Those gentle, loving eyes.

"Hi," he whispered, smiling at her.

"Hey yourself," she whispered back, her heart fluttering at the sight of the adorable dimple that appeared on her husband's cheek.

He leaned in to kiss her, eliciting a soft moan from deep within her throat. She had no idea if she was exhausted or just hopelessly in love with her husband; either way, only seconds had passed before she lost herself in the feel of his lips.

It wasn't until he was gently pushing her to the floor that she came to her senses.

"Derek," she breathed, as he began to suck on her neck. "Honey…"

She ran a hand through his hair, stopping him.

"Are we seriously about to...you know...in my boss's _office_?"

"I don't see anyone else around," Derek whispered huskily. "Or hear anyone for that matter. And the door's closed. And I want you. So...yes?"

Addison couldn't help but smile again.

"Plus, doesn't the idea of getting caught kind of make this a little more fun?" he smirked.

Addison held up a finger.

"If we get caught and I get fired or expelled I will divorce you, Derek Shepherd," she joked.

"Then we should get on with it, shouldn't we?"

He was too quick to let her respond, returning his lips to her neck and eventually down toward her cleavage as she slid her cream-colored sweater down her shoulders.

 _Oh there is no way I'm stopping this from happening right now_ , she thought to herself, undoing the buttons on Derek's shirt and exposing his muscular chest. The both of them were so busy it had been at least a week since they'd been intimate—the longest they'd gone since getting married a year ago—and she craved him.

Addison let out a quiet moan as his lips came back up to hers, his hand sneaking up the inside of her right leg. It was all she could do not to cry out once it reached its desired target, and his thumb began to stroke her through the fabric of her underwear. He groaned upon feeling how wet she already was.

"Derek…" she begged. "Off...please…"

He had always known she had a love/hate relationship with foreplay, and he loved to tease her for it.

Her husband grinned as her fingernails begin to dig into his back. She kissed him again, hard on the lips, until finally he obliged, sliding her underwear down her leg.

She could feel him, hard through his jeans, and as his hand came back up to her face, cupping her cheek, she reached down to unzip his fly. A low groan escaped through his lips and against her mouth as she exposed him.

Addison grinned, feeling the excitement of the moment, the adrenaline rushing within her. Unless they counted the upstairs bathroom at Bizzy and the Captain's summer home on Martha's Vineyard, neither she nor Derek had ever had sex in a public place before. And as nervous as she was, as she stared into her husband's sky blue eyes she also felt...free. Fun. Electrified. Outrageously adult. No one in her family—save for maybe her brother—would be so bold, so daring with love.

Derek paused, reaching one hand down toward hers and linking their fingers together. The other remained firmly around her waist, holding her tightly to him.

"I love you, Addison," he whispered into her lips.

She blinked up at him. "I love you too, Derek."

Their words rang in the air, and Addison believed they would live to tell a story more profound than any experiment ever published at Columbia. Love was the thing. Love was everything. It took up Addison's entire heart, entire being, it took up space, it took Addison everywhere she went.

She tilted her head back and took in a deep breath as he entered her, their intensity growing with each movement. He made her feel safe. He completed her. She held him tightly to her as they came together right there on the floor, hearing her name leave his lips with every breath, as if he were leaving a piece of himself with her.

What Addison didn't know at the time, however, was that he did.

What Addison didn't know at the time was that nine months and two days later, a piece of him and a piece of her would be born into this world. Addison's heart would begin to beat outside of her body, and she would no longer be living for herself.

That night, in an office on the third floor of a Columbia University medical school building, Addison Montgomery Shepherd became a mother.

* * *

 **Present Time  
** **June 2009**

A couple evenings later, Addison arrived at Oceanside Wellness with hot tea in hand after a long day of hospital consults, c-sections, and hysterectomies. Still, she had a little extra skip in her step, not because she thought about Derek's message or missed her daughter any less, but because for the most part, her brother had been right. After four days in Los Angeles, Archer Montgomery had officially reached the longest he'd ever gone without making an overly invasive comment about her personal life.

Actually, it felt good having someone else in the house, no matter how many times she told him he wasn't moving in with her. She hadn't realized how much she missed being able to come home at the end of the day and have someone just _there_ to talk to about everything. Even when she had been dating Kevin they never lived together; she'd always have to call him and ask him to come over.

She was, dare she say it, feeling a little less lonely for the first time in months.

"Wow, someone looks like they're in a good mood today," Cooper Freedman, her colleague and Oceanside's pediatrician, noted, meeting her at the receptionist's desk as they both gathered their appointment cards in preparation for tomorrow.

Addison shrugged, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "Just getting by, Cooper," she replied. "Just getting by."

Cooper grinned, flipping through his appointment cards. "'Just getting by,'" he repeated. "I'll admit I haven't heard that one before but whatever it is, keep doing it."

Addison paused, then as he turned to head back toward his office it clicked in her mind.

"Oh god, Cooper, no!" she shook her head, following him down the hall. "Is everyone in this office obsessed with sex? God, no I'm just feeling a little lighter today, a little less lonely, that's all."

"Well okay then," he chuckled, stopping at his office door. "Whatever you say boss. But hey speaking of work, I got a fever and a broken leg coming in tomorrow morning but I should be free after one, let me know if you need any consults."

"Will do," Addison smiled. "Have a good rest of your night, Cooper."

She headed toward her office, fully intending to enjoy her tea, read up on tomorrow's appointments, and continue her list of potential responses to Derek that she'd kept hidden in a private folder on her desktop before heading home for the evening. That is, until she saw that her office was, in fact, already occupied, and by none other than her best friend and brother.

"Hey..." Addison announced herself, the greeting coming out more like a question. Naomi stood up, holding a file in her left hand.

"What's going on?" Addison asked slowly.

Archer sighed as she made her way behind her desk, setting her bag down on top of a few closed files.

"Naomi seems to think we have something to tell you," he muttered reluctantly.

"We _do_ have something to tell you," Naomi corrected.

"Okay…" Addison's brow furrowed, confused. She already knew the two of them were...well, whatever they were. What more could they possibly have to tell? That Archer had gone crazy from a stroke in the middle of the night and decided to propose?

She didn't want to think worse. Ever since Carrie died, Addison had needed at least a day to recover from being around death, or any kind of bad news, really. The emotional exhaustion just became too much.

"Addison," Naomi said her name as if she were trying to keep her calm. "Something happened last night when Archer was over at my house that he...doesn't want you to know about but I don't feel comfortable keeping a secret."

Addison heard her brother sigh in frustration again.

"What happened?" she asked.

Naomi gingerly placed the file onto Addison's desk. "Take a look at this first."

It was only now that Addison realized she hadn't yet sat down. She exhaled, flattening her black pencil skirt behind her before falling into the cushioned chair.

"Okay, what am I looking at?" she asked casually, opening the file. Immediately she noticed a brain scan, filled with what looked like several small tumors in at least two different ventricles. Clearly advanced. Whoever this patient was, her heart immediately filled with dread for them. "Nai, this is a brain scan. I'm an obstetrician. Is this person pregnant, or…?

Her best friend was silent. The room was silent. For some unexplainable reason, the feeling of dread traveled down toward the pit of Addison's stomach.

"No." Archer broke the silence. Addison's head shot up in his direction. "He's not."

Suddenly, despite the expansive windows, her office felt very small, and she felt suffocated.

No. This was crazy. There was no way this meant what she thought it meant.

Addison blinked.

"No," she said pointedly. "No, this is not happening." She stood up to pace behind her desk, high heels clicking against the floor. "This is all just a dream; yeah that's it, just a dream…" She slapped herself lightly on the cheek a few times, to wake herself up.

"Addison…" Naomi said gently, walking in her direction.

"Do not touch me right now, Nai," Addison snapped, immediately regretting it after seeing her best friend's pained expression. Still, her eyes filled with tears.

"Addie," Naomi soothed. "Last night, while we were together Archer had a seizure, and it isn't the first seizure he's had. He didn't want to do anything about it, or say anything to you; still I took him to the ER and made him get a CT scan anyway." Naomi paused, taking a deep breath.

"It's cancer, Addison," Archer finished. "I have...cancer."

Addison glanced at her brother again. Her big brother who had done nothing but love and protect her—albeit annoyingly—for her entire life. Her big brother who had always looked brave and confident and strong. And yet now, when she looked at him sitting in her office chair, he looked small.

The severity of it all threatened to knock her over, so instead she released a laugh, a cackle from way deep down, pulling her back into her chair.

"No you don't," she laughed. "This is some kind of sick joke. You're the only family I have left, you don't have _cancer_."

This time it was Archer who stood up, and before Addison knew it his hand was on her shoulder.

"Yes, Addie, I do."

She looked up at him, all traces of humor leaving her face as a tear spilled down her cheek. Archer really did have brain cancer. Addison had lost her daughter, and now she was about to lose her brother.

"Why…" she started, but the words caught in her throat.

 _Why didn't you tell me_.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." Archer read her thoughts. "I guess I just wanted to...spend time with you without having to think about it. But now that it's out in the open…"

As if that could calm her down.

"Stop," she interrupted him. "We are not going to start talking about this as if you're dying." The word tasted like acid in her mouth. "Who's your neuro doctor? I want to talk to whoever caught this thing first. You still have options, chemo, radiation, clinical trials…"

"Addie…" he said. "I've already gone over all of that. Spoken with five different doctors. It's inoperable."

"But _I_ haven't 'gone over' all of it!" she snapped. "And I'm not about to sit here and watch you _give up_ when there's more we can do. There's always more we can do."

Naomi moved toward the door. "What if I go get Violet and we can sit down and talk about this a little more..."

Violet was the office psychiatrist.

"No! _Dammit_ I don't wanna talk about this," Addison cried. "I wanna _do_ something!" Already she was tearing through the file looking for a name, _any_ name she could call and start demanding answers, meanwhile running through the laundry list in her head of oncologists she knew in LA.

"No, Naomi you stay here, I'll go get-"

"No you sit!" Addison stopped him. "You are not leaving my sight again until we start getting some answers." She stood up, heading toward the file cabinet in the corner of the room. "Now I have a list of oncologists who I've worked with and I could pull some strings to get you in this week…"

At this point she couldn't even tell if Naomi was still in the room. Then again, if Addison had been in position she probably would have stayed silent as well, let the situation play out. Forcefully she opened up the top drawer of the cabinet, flipping through papers.

"What, no arguments from either of you?" she snapped.

There was a brief silence behind her, until a _thud_ startled her out of her trance. She spun around. Naomi had gone to get Violet after all. Archer was seizing on her floor.

"Naomi!" she shouted, running over to Archer. "Nai! Someone call 9-1-1!"

Addison fell onto her knees, grabbing the sides of his head to hold him steady. She heard running from down the hall and seconds later both Naomi and Violet were standing in her doorway.

"I'll call the ambulance," Violet announced, running back down the hall.

Naomi rushed over to Addison's side.

"Help me hold him steady," Addison demanded. "Okay, okay, it's okay Arch you're okay…" she tried fruitlessly to soothe him.

Violet ran back into her office. "Ambulance is on its way," she said. "What can I do?"

"Take my place," Addison ordered. She waited for Violet's hands to replace hers before getting to her feet, grabbing her phone from her bag, and without even thinking, ran out of the room and slammed her thumb against that oh-so-familiar name in her voicemail inbox.

The 'call back' option popped up on the screen and, without hesitation, she pressed it.

"Come on, pick up," she muttered, pacing back and forth in the hallway. "Pick up, pick up, pick up."

Two rings later.

" _Addison?"_

* * *

Thank you for reading. Please review!


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